


A Sisyphean Endeavor

by MagicMight



Series: A Sisyphean Endeavor [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alcoholism, Anal, Anxiety, Character Development, Characters are as Canon as Possible, Cutting, Depression, Drinking, Eating Disorder, Evil Dursley's, F/M, Gay, HBP non-compliant, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Activities, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), No Dumbledore/Weasley/Hermione Bashing, OCD, PTSD, Posessive Snape, Protective Snape, Rape, Recovery, Rule Breaking, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smoking, Smut, Suicide, Toxic Relationships, Trauma, Triggers, War-Centric, bad habits, powerful!Harry, substance use, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 40
Words: 136,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMight/pseuds/MagicMight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a grueling summer in which the Boy Who Lived endures abuse like none other, Harry returns to Hogwarts more of a mess than ever to face the fate that awaits him.</p><p>It's safe to say that this story does not have a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Harry Endures Hell

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own the characters or the world in which this is happening-that credit goes to J.K Rowling!

I try to stay in canon with the characters as best as I can, though, no one could ever write them as good as Rowling! Some events after OOTP are disregarded, though not all.

If you are looking for a happy ending, this is probably not the story for you.

This story is rated Explicit for a reason-while I don't often go into very deep detail, there are mentions of abuse: physical, mental, as well as (in this chapter) sexual. Mild cursing ahead. If you aren't into that sort of thing, you should probably stop reading right about now!

Give me some time to get into the story, it'll take a bit for me to get it right, bare with me.

Happy reading!

* * *

 

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this hopeless. If he racked his brain enough, he might've said after Cedric died. Or, more logically, perhaps, he'd have said when he was around the dementors. This time was different than all of that.

Sirius was  _dead_. The closest thing he'd had to family. While he'd only known him for two years-most of which had been spent scribbling sparse letters back and forth, the occasional fire-chat and, more often than not, a constant _fear_  of wondering whether or not he'd ever hear from him again. He didn't have to be afraid now. Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault. He would never be hearing from Sirius Black again.

Harry had always been akin to guilt, guilt and he went seamlessly hand in hand, this was no different. If anything, it was worse.

He was the prime cause of his Godfather's death and no matter what anyone said or tried to tell him, he would never let that go. How could he? If he'd just-if he'd tried harder, or if he'd thought it through...Sirius might still be alive.  The worst part of it was that it could have all been avoided. That he'd known better, or should have. That he wasn't going to be the invincible "Boy-Who-Lived" forever if he kept getting everyone around him murdered. He certainly wasn't invincible here, at the Dursley's. Alive, sure, but Harry had begun to realize that there was little to long for in his life anymore.

Sirius might've been able to rescue him.

But that was too selfish a thought when everyone had bigger things to worry about than Harry's mental and physical well-being in this house. The Dursley's, as per went the usual story, were there until he turned 17. They were there to protect him from Voldemort, and nothing else. As far as Dumbledore and the rest of the Order was concerned--Harry was the safest he'd ever been. He would've laughed at the thought if his throat wasn't so raw from where Vernon's beefy fingers had wrapped themselves around it and tried to strangle the screams out of him.

Harry shifted his weight, as a wave of indignance washed over him, and pressed the whole of it against the stain that had been left behind on the carpet last night, the stain he was currently trying to remove with soapy water and rag. It was strange-Dumbledore had told him once that his blood was valuable. Voldemort himself had used it to return his body back to him...and yet, the Dursley's-or rather, Vernon and Dudley Dursley, seemed to have no qualms over spilling Harry's blood himself.

He could still feel the sting of the backhand and the way it split his lip, the collision of a fist against his cheekbone and the skin-on-skin sound it had made- loud enough to rack the teeth in Harry's skull. It was his own bloody fault, and  _no_ , he wasn't making excuses for the abuse-he really shouldn't have spoken back like he had. He knew what to expect now, didn't he, after all these years?

He should have, anyway. Maybe he wanted it. Thought he deserved it, after everything.

Staying at Privet Drive had been shit all his life, but it wasn't until after his third year that his Uncle had truly seemed bent on driving that message home hard.

_You're not welcome here, you freak! Since the moment you were dumped like a sack of rags on our doorstep you've done nothing but take from us, cause us trouble, and waste every resource your aunt and I have deigned to give you! And then they threaten us? After everything? Some bloody nerve, I'll make you regret the bloody moment you found out you were a wizard, you mangy little cunt._

Punctuated by grunts and a kick to the ribs, another to the spine-they'd left him there. Left him on the floor all night and when his aunt had roused him in the morning with a few sharp shoves, he knew the rest of the summer had taken its turn. It was different each summer, really. He usually got a few days where he was left along, where the Dursley's tested that waters, as if afraid the magic on him would rub off on them. Gods, all he had wanted was to go to the Weasley's, but he knew better than to ask. The sting of rejection and disappointment he'd learned a long time ago. Of all summer's, he knew this summer would be the roughest-especially with the way last summer had ended. Vernon stripping him down and-

Harry shoved the thought from his mind and reached with a shaky hand to rinse out the cloth he was using to buff the stain from light pink to an even lighter pink-at least it was coming out. The last thing he needed was Uncle Vernon coming home to the sight of him still working on a patch of carpet.

He'd been very clear in his demands.

He scrubbed harder, scrubbed until his arms were aching from the stress of it and his fingertips were red and raw. The stain was nearly gone-but nearly wouldn't be good enough. The best Harry could do now was throw a mat over it and hope that it would go overlooked.

As he pushed himself to his feet, Harry faintly pretended he could hear the scratching of Hedwig at the window. He'd taken to doing this lately, pretending that someone had sent Hedwig back to him with a letter promising they'd get him soon, that they hadn't forgotten about him here. Harry had sent the bird off the night they'd arrived before Vernon had the chance to figure out what to do with her. They couldn't bloody well lock the owl in the cupboard and so Harry had been granted some reprieve with the birds company for a few days-until things had gotten bad enough that Harry had sent her off to Ron in hopes that at least his familiar could make it out of this unscathed. He'd heard Vernon saying to Dudley that they might have to kill her-that had been the final straw.

Harry reached immediately for the edge of the table in the hall to steady himself as he swayed and came precariously close to fainting-he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Forcing the black spots from his eyes, Harry moved one foot in front of the other and carried the bucket of soapy water along with him, all whilst trying not to notice that he felt absolutely dead on his feet.

_Save the world a whole lot of bloody trouble if it were true._

Someone else would be far more capable of killing Voldemort. Perhaps if he was dead Dumbledore would come up with a new plan, fuck the prophecy. It couldn't very well matter if he was dead, could it? Neither can live while the other survives, but was that to say they couldn't both die? It was a kind thought. One that he could use to relax. If he died, they'd come up with something else. They'd have no choice.

Once he'd finished cleaning up and putting everything away, Harry sought out Aunt Petunia.

"I've finished cleaning, Aunt Petunia," his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

Petunia didn't even acknowledge him. Not so much as a nod of the head or a glimpse in his direction. Harry took that as a dismissal. He was done for the day. Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry quietly closed the door behind himself and dropped onto his bed. It would have been nice to sleep, if his sleep wasn't constantly rocked by visions of Voldemort, the replay of Sirius falling through the veil, and his Uncle in all his horrifying rage-

He was asleep before he could talk himself out of it any further.

The corridor was long. He was running, sprinting, he knew if he could just reach the end he would reach Sirius and Cedric, he would reach his parents, he would reach everyone in harms way and put an end to their suffering. If he could just make it there, he could save them, he could kill Voldemort-he could fulfill what he was meant for. The only reason he was even here.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe, there were snakes around his neck, two of them, monstrous and spitting as they tightened and cut off any sound he might have made to call for help.

_Professor Snape!_   He could see him closer than all the others, if he could just call out to him, he would help-he'd tried to help with the Occlumency, no? As disastrous as that had been, he had  _tried_. The snakes were getting tighter, Voldemort was in front of him then, pulling back his wand, screeching the words, a blinding green light, his mother screaming, begging, pleading-

And then the snakes around his neck were hands, real hands. Meaty and large, clammy and tight around his throat. It wasn't Voldemort in front of him now, it was his Uncle.

He clawed at them, tried to pull the hands from his throat, it wasn't until the panic had started to take him under that he released him with a callous laugh and held him back against the bed with one hand pressed firmly against his neck. Not a warning. A promise. He spluttered and gasped for air and swore he wouldn't be able to speak again.

"What did I ruddy well tell you about the carpet? Hm? I won't have your pathetically disgusting excuse for existence muddying up my home. No, I told you what would happen. You're a fucking disgrace, just like your mother-she was a whore, getting pregnant the way she did, with that fucking deadbeat drunk father of yours! You should be glad we took you in, and instead you choose the same poor life as they chose. I'm glad they're dead-they deserved it, your kind deserves it-you deserve worse."

The slap was expected, but nothing compared to a _Cr_ _uciatus_. At least this, he could handle.

The way Vernon next grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him from the bed sharply to his knees was not. Harry didn't know what was happening until he'd reached for the buckle on his belt and was yanking it sharply from his trousers.

"Get your shirt off, you good for nothing slut."

Harry froze then, if his Uncle expected Harry to make this easy for him-

"Get it off!" His scream cut through him, and the lash his belt buckle made against his cheek was enough to have Harry reeling away in agony. Vernon yanked him up by the hair again and tore the shirt over Harry's head himself. Harry immediately, reflexively moved to cover himself, he felt entirely exposed, more naked than he'd ever felt in his life.

Vernon stalked around him and let out a cold, bone-chilling laugh. For the first time in a long time, Harry was sure his Boggart would no longer be a Dementor, but  _this_  image of his Uncle.

He was sure of it as Vernon's belt cut sharply into the flesh of his back back with a slash so violent he could feel the welt burning all throughout the rest of his body. It happened again, and again-it happened until Harry's entire back felt numbed to each lash as it was dealt to him.

It wasn't until he hit the floor face down that he realized Vernon had finally stopped whipping him and was instead working the button on his pants, panting as he lowered himself over Harry, his heavy breath hot and ragged against his ear.

"Fucking whores get what they deserve-" He spat as he pawed roughly against Harry's skin. Harry struggled hard then, despite the burning in his back, but Vernon only laughed at the meager protests and worked Harry's too-large jeans over his hips. Harry was desperate then, he tried shouting for someone-even his aunt or cousin, but Vernon ground his face into the bed until he could barely breathe. No one came.

When Vernon thrust into him, he felt like he'd been torn apart. He could feel the pain as it cut through him, but only for a moment before he found himself pulled from it, dissociated in a way as if he were witnessing the experience from above. Each time Vernon thrust after that, the pain was dull and barely-there. Harry didn't realize he'd lost consciousness until Vernon was yanking him over and spending himself against his stomach with a grunt that nearly made Harry wretch.

"Clean yourself up," Vernon spat at after he buckled himself back into his pants and looked all too satisfied with himself as he looked down on the pathetic sight he'd left behind, "Disgraceful."

And Harry knew it was true, he did, he did, _he did_. He didn't need to hear it.

Not for the first time that summer, nor would it be the last, Harry wished for death.


	2. In Which Harry Would Rather Run Away

 

**Disclaimer:**  Neither the characters, nor this world, are mine-they belong to J.K Rowling.

Once again, this story contains themes of abuse (mental, physical, and sexual). This chapter contains mild abuse and coarse language.

Er...happy reading?

* * *

 

"You can't truly think that's a good idea, Albus."

"Ah, but I do, Severus. I know Occlumency didn't end well for you and Harry last year-but now is as vulnerable a time as any. I would truly like for you to resume lessons this year, as a favor to me."

"Because I am not already doing you plenty of favors, Albus-and you think this is smart? What with all the help I'll be giving Mr. Malfoy? Another _favor_ you've required of me, need I remind you?" Severus raised his eyebrow at the Headmaster, like he could somehow persuade him from this ridiculous notion as simply as that. Severus didn't know why he suddenly thought what he had to say was important to the Headmaster, in this regard, it never had been before.

"I think you'll find it in yourself to separate yourself from Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter with  _ease,_ " said Albus, and (as Severus noted with mild disdain) there was that tell-all twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes. He wasn't going to budge on this.

"There's no doubt about that-the differences between them both are astounding. For one, Mr. Malfoy isn't an insufferable brat with a hero-complex and an arrogance that would make Gilderoy Lockhart-" if he was going to do it, he didn't have to enjoy it, this wasn't something he was able to resign to so easily. And if Potter didn't prove himself worthy of such efforts on Snape's own part...

"Severus." Albus spoke in warning then, cutting Snape's tirade short. A good thing too, Severus had far more to contribute, as he often always did. He felt trapped into this, as he often was whenever Albus had made up his mind.

Severus let out a long, pained sigh and slowly began to stand, "If that will be all, Albus?"

"Actually..." The Headmaster trailed off and let his eyes find Snape's before him as his hands came to a bridge and the tips of his fingers just barely touched, revealing the blackened hand that Severus had already expended energy trying to...save, if you will.

"You're not serious-"

"I've received a number of owls from a grievously worried Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Albus continued with no attention paid to Snape's protest. He was, clearly, serious.

"And?" The boredom in Severus's voice was not lost on the Headmaster.

"And, Miss Granger, too. Remus Lupin and Hagrid have come to me as well-"

"Are you nearing the point, Albus, or must I sit through a list of Potter's only friends before you get there?"

Albus raised his eyebrow at Severus but said nothing, as unobtrusive a request for respect as he could make in that moment without crossing Severus too far. "It seems Harry's owl, Hedwig, showed up at the start of the summer holiday with no letter from Harry, nor has he responded to the number of letters they've sent. Miss Granger tried to make a phone call and was told Harry was dead-"

" _Dead?_  Surely-"

"I have no doubt that Harry is still alive, do you truly think I would be here if not? Though, even you must admit, Severus, it is troubling-"

"Must  _I_  admit it's troubling? Have _I_ not been telling you how troubling Potter is, how troubling he's been since he stepped foot into Hogwarts-"

"Enough, Severus." Headmaster Dumbledore bridged his fingertips together just under the front of his chin. "You will ensure Harry is safe and escort him to the Burrow in one weeks time. That will be all." The dismissal in Dumbledore's voice was enough to have Severus sweeping from the room without another word dark, cloaked and furious.

Severus made the journey across the grounds swiftly-he'd walked it only an hour ago when the Headmaster had fire-called him halfway through a novel he found most becoming. Of course, the Headmaster had no regards for the fact that this was supposed to be his vacation time as well. Leave it to Albus Dumbledore to have him trailing after  _Potter_ , of all students during summer holiday simply because the Boy-Who-Lived was having trouble responding to his letters. As if he didn't have enough coddling already-

Alas, no. Severus had seen firsthand some of Potter's...unusual upbringing. Chased by dogs, his morbidly obese cousin and those brute friends, the chores-there was no doubt Potter wasn't  _coddled_ -but Severus himself had seen  _worse_  in some of his own students. If he was to be rescuing the Chosen One from chores, he wasn't about to enjoy it when his time could be spent better elsewhere. 

* * *

Harry could hardly stand, the pain was so debilitating, but he forced himself under a scalding stream of water until his skin had been rubbed raw. Until every inch of him had been torn by a washcloth and was ready for another round of scrubbing. He couldn't get the feel of-of  _it_ off of him. The hands, the heavy, sweaty chest, the panting in his ear, hot and sticky-the thought of how he'd been defiled had Harry dry heaving empty stomach-fulls over the drain. He had nothing to sick-up.

He was ashamed at the sting of tears in his eyes and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, as if that might help distract him from the rest of his aches and pains.

It didn't and he wasn't surprised. He let the water run over his skin until the water was less red and only a light pink. The lashings had become regular. New slices over open wounds, over fresh scabs-Vernon had developed a pattern, now. Nightly, he came to Harry in his room and used his belt until Harry gave in and yelped in pain. And then Vernon would continue, the same way he had a week ago. Last summer. He let a stream of cold water over his back, hoping the singing heat in contrast to the biting cold would numb the chaos written across his skin and shut the water off with a sigh.

Harry struggled to get out of the shower, and when he had finally made it back to his room he shoved yet another set of his clothing under the loose floorboard he'd once used to store his essentials before his Uncle had begun locking  _everything_  in the cupboard under the stairs as soon as he stepped foot inside Number 4. He didn't want to see them, they were too much of a reminder.

Harry tentatively pulled on fresh clothes and tried his best not to wince as the fabric of his shirt caught against the sticky film of blood that was fresh on his back from where the buckle on his Uncle's belt had caught his skin, where the leather snapped and cracked. Harry gingerly pulled his pants on next before he curled himself up into the tiniest ball he could manage to wait out the rest of the night and the early morning before he would have to face his own personal hell again.

Aunt Petunia had slid two slices of toast through the cat flap, along with a lukewarm glass of milk. Harry finished both off so quickly that his stomach turned and he struggled to keep the meager meal down, a bitterness in his throat that made him want to throw up all over the Dursley's fucking carpet-

Creaking stairs had Harry launching out of bed, standing at the ready even though his rigid posture shot off serious pangs of protest through him. His Uncle had just left him almost two hours ago, why was he back already, so soon?

"We're going out, boy. When we get home, all the chores had better be finished-unless you want to have another go-" The sickening smirk on his Uncle's face was enough to have Harry enraged, uncontrolled-he could feel a venomous hatred spiking in him just then, a feeling he'd only ever gotten when he stood before Voldemort himself.

Harry lunged without a care in the world, he couldn't hold himself back. With his fists flying, he caught Vernon sharp in the jaw and aimed again for his Uncle's temple, planned next on jabbing the fat fucker in his trunk sized throat. For a moment, Harry was sure he was besting him, Harry was sure that he could handle this-

-and then, Harry was seeing stars.

The kicks that racked through his body were enough to keep him alert, his strangled yelps had alerted Dudley and Aunt Petunia who were watching disdainfully in their best Sunday clothes.

"Vernon, leave the freak, we'll be late."

_Aunt Petunia, giving me a reprieve? What has the world come to?_   Harry thought bitterly as one last shattering blow took him in the ribs and kept him on the floor, even as he heard his bedroom door lock and the Dursley's car pull out of the driveway.

He physically couldn't find it in himself to move. His whole body ached. Every fucking piece of him was a constant reminder of what his Uncle had  _done_  to him-Vernon had finally crossed a line he'd only toed with disgusting precision before. Harry felt a moisture in his eyes and berated himself for it. He could not-would not allow himself to cry over it, over what Vernon had reduced him to.

_Nothing but a disgusting, grimy little slut, forever grubbing for more, arrogant, weak-_

As he tried to pull himself from the insults, he tried to push himself to his feet as well, but something shifted and snapped accordingly, reducing him back to the weakened heap of trash he was.

_Fuck it, then_ , Harry thought bitterly to himself as he lay in a heap on his bedroom floor. He had hours till the Dursley's would be back-and Vernon had locked him in his room anyway, there wasn't much at all that he could do but prepare himself for what Vernon would reduce him to when he arrived home. If only he had his fucking wand-he'd face expulsion, he didn't care about that anymore. It was  _Vernon Dursley_  he wanted to maim in the worst of ways. Harry knew he wasn't going to make it much longer here. Either he was going to kill, be killed, or kill himself.

He drifted off somewhere between imagining his Uncle cowering in fear because Harry had pulled his wand and being back at Hogwarts in a bed that wouldn't feel like a pile of rocks beneath him, a warm meal three times a day...

For once, he did not dream, and sleep was a peaceful thing, something he found he was enjoying too much, rather, and might have lost himself to it entirely if it wasn't for the incessant scraping on the window-

"WHAT?!" Harry shouted (attempted to, anyway) and launched himself to his feet with immediate pains of protest. He was more angry with himself for being so keen on the idea of truly sleeping forever than he was angry with the owl scratching at his-

_Owl?!_

Harry hurried to his window and threw it open, the bars Vernon had put on his second year were long since gone and had never been replaced-but his Uncle's threats had been enough to keep Hedwig locked up. Owl post came far and few between anyway-he couldn't possibly imagine who would be owling him now-a jet black owl, one he'd never seen before swooped in gingerly and stuck out its foot. There was something very no-nonsense about this bird, for as soon as Harry had untied the scroll of parchment from its leg, it was taking off again instead of pecking at him for a treat.

He was too distracted unfurling his letter to take too much note of the bird as it flew off-and after that he was too fucking  _shocked_  at who it was from to do anything.

_I will be collecting you at half past seven o'clock, sharp._

_Be packed and prepared to go, or you will not go at all._

_S. Snape._

_  
_ For a moment, Harry considered running away.


	3. In Which Mrs. Figg Makes an Appearance

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own the character, nor the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

Warning in this chapter for physical abuse and cursing.

To be totally honest, I hadn't prepared on publishing this, and I'd appreciate some feedback of the constructive sort.

Happy reading.

* * *

 

Panic set in first when he realized all his things were locked away and he had no means of getting to them, and more-so, even, when he realized Snape was the last person he wanted to take him from  _anywhere_ , let alone the Dursley's. He would use this against him in some way, he'd turn the fact that he wasn't a spoiled brat like he'd always thought and he'd make Harry feel  _worse_  for it-or like he deserved it...Harry couldn't decide what he would rather be subject to, if any of it - worst of all, Snape truly would leave him behind, that much was sure.

How in the  _fuck_  was he going to get out of his room and get all his shit packed in time for Snape? It had to be nearly seven now -

The banging of the front door as it opened and hit the wall behind it had Harry jumping right out of his skin and tearing the letter into pieces before anyone could find that he had it. He shoved the bits into the bin and dropped onto his bed carelessly, earning himself a sharp stab to the ribs that had him gritting his teeth desperately against the pain.

_Just leave me alone, just stay away from me - keep walking -_ Harry pleaded desperately with his thoughts, like somehow he could control what was about to happen if he willed it hard enough.

He must not have willed well enough.

"Thought that was funny, did you? Sending us  _another_  fake summons so you could, what? Burn the house down,  _steal_  from us, boy?" Vernon spat venomously and came across the room so fast with a backhand Harry hadn't expected to come as quickly as it had.

"I wouldn't steal anything from  _you_ -I've been locked in here all night, how in the bloody fuck - "

Another blow caught him hard enough that Harry let out a sharp yell, and another as his uncle grabbed him by the hair and threw him with enough force that he collided roughly with the floor for the second time that night.

"My Professor is coming to get me - you'd be  _stupid_  to do anything else before he gets here, he'll  _kill_  you - " Of course, Snape might more or less  _assist_  Vernon's assaults, but Vernon didn't know that. Nor did he seem to care for Harry's unfounded threat.

"You threaten me in my home? You pathetic little freak! You disgraceful - " Each blow caught Harry hard enough to get him well out of breath...he physically  _couldn't_  catch a break long enough to  _breathe_ -

"I hope he won't mind taking a  _dead_  Potter back to freakland, where you belong rotting in the ground like your good-for-nothing parents - "  _Freakland?_ After all these years, and that was still the ruddy best his Uncle could come up with?

"Please,  _stop it_!" Harry shouted, and something in his voice had Vernon laughing, laughing until he couldn't breathe, until Harry realized he'd done something to  _stop_  Vernon's breathing.

Adrenaline alone had Harry on his feet, pain forgotten as he shoved past his Uncle Vernon and took off down the stairs, rounded on his Aunt Petunia who was holding Dudley close to her as he turned on them in rage.

"Open my cupboard. Now." He hissed viciously, "Now!" The lights gave a flicker and Petunia let out a scream and ran to get the key as Dudley ran past Harry up the steps where his father was only just taking rattling breaths. "Open it!" He demanded, only to realize that the cupboard had shot open of its own accord. He rushed to it, yanked his trunk out along with Hedwig's empty cage and his wand, which he held up the stairs as Vernon and Dudley came barreling down them as if they were going to come after him. "Stay the fuck away from me, I'm warning you-they can expel me, at this point, I'd beg them to expel me just for the chance to set you  _straight_." He hissed this so venomously he saw Dudley go white and stop instantly while Vernon only seemed to hesitate before continuing with his hands outstretched, grasping for Harry's throat-

_BANG!_

Harry hadn't meant to-he wasn't truly planning on using magic, he didn't want to get expelled, Hogwarts was the only fucking home he  _had_.

"Potter, if you'll come with me." Harry started then and turned quickly to see if what he'd heard was real, or if it was all just a figment of his imagination, something he'd made up in order to save himself from the expulsion that was no doubt already on its way...

The cold cruel voice of Severus Snape was the best thing he could have ever heard once he'd realized it was truly there, followed by the sight of his outstretched wand being the best thing he'd ever seen. He hadn't cast that spell, Snape had.

With one final, cold look at his relatives, if he could even call them that, Harry pushed himself on just a little more until he was across the street at Mrs. Figg's, where Snape had pointed wordlessly.

If Snape noticed his injuries, he gave no inkling of it. Harry would have preferred to keep it that way, only as he finally had a moment to catch his breath in Mrs. Figg's front corridor, he also had a moment to feel  _pain_  again. Nothing could have stopped him from collapsing, not even the thought of Hogwarts, not the thought of playing quidditch, nor the thought of seeing Ron and Hermione.

"If you've had enough dramatizing, Potter - "

"I don't think he's mucking about, Severus." Mrs. Figg said gently but without the meekness she took to in front of the Dursley's, and started forward with an outstretched hand, one meant to soothe him, but Harry could only flinch away.

"Potter, get up."

Harry didn't want to prolong his embarrassment, he did his best to do as Snape was telling him, but the pain only increased and had him collapsing again.

"I can't." He said.

"Speak up, Potter, mumbling will get you nowhere - "

"I can't! I can't fucking move, Snape - "

"We may be outside of Hogwarts, Potter, but I can still make your life - "

"What, a living hell? You can't make it anymore miserable than it already is, go for it, try it, I can take ten times what you think you can give after what he..." Harry trailed off then and continued the struggle to get his legs under him.

"What he...what, Potter?"

"Severus, he's  _injured_! Look at the boy-I knew, I told the Headmaster something was off in that house-look at him!" Mrs. Figg shouted and turned on a proper light which revealed Harry's state effectively to both adults in the room. Mrs. Figg's outrage then was enough to have Harry sure that he looked as bad as it all felt.

"What in _Merlin's name_ did you do to yourself, Potter?" Snape spat incredulously at him, a moment of shock and confusion crossed his features for the most fleeting of moments before Harry was left wondering whether or not he'd imagined it all.

"Because I enjoy this - "

"What happened to you?" Snape's hiss was vicious and menacing, so much so that Harry cowered away from it and could only shake his head, lips tightly sealed. Snape wouldn't get the pleasure of hearing any of it. Snape wouldn't get the fucking satisfaction of the truth.

"I was jumped yesterday by a group of muggle boys." The lie spilled easily enough from his lips, and when Snape reached to pull Harry's jaw up so he could meet his eyes, Harry found himself occluding far harder than he ever had in his entire life.

Hard enough, even, that Snape's lip curled in disgust. "Fine. Help me get him laid out, Arabella, I'll do what I can here."

The combined effort of Snape and Mrs. Figg, not to mention Harry's determination  _not_  to look weak in front of Snape, was enough to get him into the sitting room, where Snape set to work and did his best to source where the worst of it was coming from.

"All this happened yesterday, Potter?"

"Yes - "

"Yes, what?"

"Yes,  _sir_."

"Interesting story, considering most of you is bleeding fresh - "

"Did you miss my Uncle coming at me from the stairs? Old wounds reopen when you're in a hurry,  _sir_ , you of all people should know that." Harry hissed under his breath, glad he finally had the ability to expel some of the pent up frustration he'd harbored this summer. Fuck Snape, let him take points or give him detention - it was  _nothing_  compared to what Vernon could do to him.

Snape, surprisingly enough, said nothing. Instead, he pursed his lips in a hard thin line and worked, wordlessly casting his spells over the length of Harry until he could do no more for him at all and stepped back, "Do you think you can find the courage in you to stand, Potter, or must I conjure a stretcher?"

"I'm fine. Sir." He added hastily and stood, far too quickly, it seemed, for he was reaching out blindly to grab something as spots blackened his vision long enough for him to know what was coming if he didn't steady himself - he hadn't meant to grab the front of Snape's  _robes_ , however, and as soon as he balanced himself he was pulling away in disgust.

"A stretcher, then?"

"I said I'm  _fine_." Harry insisted frustrated with the fact that Snape couldn't just cut him a fucking break and looked around for Mrs. Figg, like she might back him up on this. "Can we go?"

Snape fixed him with another hard look, but whether or not he expected Harry to meet his eyes again was a moot point as Harry turned away before he got the chance. He was unsteady on his feet but used his trunk to keep himself balance enough. If he could just get somewhere and lay down, he would wake up the next morning and be  _fine_. He knew he would be, already, now that he was moving further from the Dursley's, he was feeling markedly better.

"Very well. I'm going to go first-you'll repeat clearly after me-I assume you're not too daft to travel by floo?" Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry coolly, and Harry did his best to breathe deeply to steady himself before he had another outburst. "Thank you, Arabella, the Headmaster sends his regards as well." Snape insisted curtly with a bow of his head before he accepted a pinch of Floo-powder and tossed it into Mrs. Figgs fireplace. "Snape residence, Spinner's End. Prince."  _Snape residence? Prince?_

Where in the fuck -

"Go along now, Harry. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be at the Burrow." Mrs. Figg encouraged softly and threw the powder into the flames for Harry so he could pull his trunk in with him. "It's going to be okay, Harry - "

But before she could go on, Harry was speaking clearly-along with the  _password_  to Snape's  _home_ , something he hadn't realized until he could feel the potion master's floo accepting him after he gave it.

_Prince_.


	4. In Which Snape Can See Right Through Harry Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!
> 
> This chapter contains coarse language and some description of injury.
> 
> Feel free to review/message me, I don't bite! 
> 
> Happy reading!

 

"Why are we at your - this is your home?"

Snape glared at Harry long before he deigned to give him an answer, despite feeling like he owed him no explanation, "Yes, Potter. This is my home-was it 'Snape residence' that gave it away, or - ?" Harry turned away from Snape's sarcastic remarks then and pursed his lips against the urge to lash out once more. He tried to focus on what Mrs. Figg had said to him-the sooner he got through this, the sooner he'd be at the Burrow...and well on his way to eradicating everything that had happened this summer.

"Why are we here?" It took an inconceivable amount of effort to keep his voice from shaking, "I thought-"

"Let me ask you, Potter, if I show up at the Burrow with you in tow appearing as you do...what do you think the whole Weasley brood would believe, hm? I won't take you there when you look like..." Snape gestured as if it were obvious. Harry supposed it was but gave no inkling that he agreed to this plan, as much as he loathed being  _ here _ .

"How do I know you're not about to turn me over to Vold-"

"I will turn you over to him if you don't watch your tone, your attitude, and your preposterous accusations, Potter," Snape snarled, his words clipped and biting at every turn as he rounded on Harry so viciously that the latter had raised his arm to shield the blow that was sure to come, the blow he'd been conditioned to receive, "Peculiar," As usual, Snape spoke with an irritatingly cruel precision in which every single one of his words sounded mocking and  _ above _ him.

Snape didn't hit him, and so, Harry lowered his arm in time to see the curious look on the Potion Master's face. Harry scowled, but said nothing -  _ fuck you _ . His thoughts were often enough to get him by.

"I see your meager attempts at occluding are only passable when it serves  _ you _ best."  _Insolent child,_ Snape thought disparagingly, though, if he looked at Potter properly, he could see that the man in front of him was just that. No longer a child. Grown and looking more like his father with every passing second. Aside from the eyes, with which Snape diverted his attention. But there was something else, too, something Snape found he couldn't put his finger on. A hint of  _Lily_ , though the name burned him every time he gave it thought.

Harry started at this, furrowed his eyebrows and turned away again before speaking, "Dumbledore sent you to get me?"

" _Headmaster_  Dumbledore sent me to get you, Potter, yes. Surely you know I would not have deigned to grace myself with your presence of my own volition." It wasn't a question, there was no use pretending otherwise. Snape busied himself gathering the necessary ingredients for whatever it would be that ailed Potter and made him look so...tattered and weak.

"Right," Harry quipped glibly.

"How many did it take to do that to you?" Snape asked then, sure he could trick the boy into admitting the obvious cause of his wounds. Snape knew abuse when he saw it. Not even from his own experiences, but from the number of Slytherin students who had parents with a very cruel idea incorporated in their upbringing.

"What?" Harry rounded on Snape in turn this time, lost as to what he was hinting at.

"How many muggles did it take to reduce you to the state I found you in?"  _ Invalid- _ Severus thought bitterly to himself and raised his eyebrows expectantly, "Or were you not 'jumped' by muggles?" A raised eyebrow punctuated his words enough to make Harry look away, as if the high rise would cause Potter to betray his secrets.

"I - five," the lie was coarse and obvious, but Harry wasn't about to give him anything else, and he didn't have enough time to think about the extent of his wounds without seeming obvious.

"Five muggles, and this was the best they could do?"

"Fuck - " He cut himself off then and clenched his fists to tightly his nails dug into his skin sharp enough to make him hold his tongue.  _ Fuck you _ .

"Such a disgusting mouth, Potter, did you Aunt and Uncle not teach you any  _ manners _ ? Have you truly grown up a savage?" Snape savored the rest of the words on his tongue, the words he could maim Potter with.

"Shut up.  _ Shut up _ ! You don't know the first bloody thing about how I grew up, you haven't got a clue-on second thought, I'd love to go to the Burrow right now, sod whatever the  _ Weasley brood _ thinks-let them think you did this to me, fuck if I care, the last place I'd rather be is - "  _ the Dursley's _ . But  _ here _ was a second best. "In fact, I think I can take myself, actually-" Harry started and turned on his heel, wand in hand, trunk ready to be lugged in the other, "The Knight Bus can take me there, I'm not that  _ daft _ , see?" Harry moved to grab the front know for the front door, only Snape flicked his wand and made it burn so hot he flinched away from it and turned on his potions Master full of reproach. "You don't want me here and I don't want to be here."

"What we want is not what matters." Snape hissed and turned in a way reminiscent of how he commandeered his classroom, billowing cloak and all.

Harry, regretfully, had no other move but to follow because, he and Snape, of all people, knew that this was the truth. As Dumbledore had made it.

As Snape flicked his wand in turn, summoning miscellaneous jars and vials, retrieving the rest of his stock left behind them, Harry took the opportunity to look around. While he was curious as to where his Potions Master lived outside of Hogwarts-and, truthfully, he was more or less making sure that this wasn't some sort of trap. He didn't trust Snape as much as he would have liked to, or rather, as much as Dumbledore would have liked him to.

"Has my home met your approval, Potter, or must we delay this much longer?" Snape questioned coolly until Harry moved towards Snape with apprehension. When Snape drew his wand again, Harry froze, "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," he hissed with finality before he transfigured a nearby chair into what resembled a medical examination table.

"What the fu -"

"Enough. Your vulgarity is revolting and I won't stand for any more of it. I'm going to fix you up and take you to the Burrow." Snape said with a finality that had Harry hopping up onto the table resigned to whatever Snape was about to subject him to, "Lay back, Potter."

Harry obliged him begrudgingly and kept his lips pursed around gritted teeth as Snape raised his wand and ran it over him, sourcing out the worst of his injuries-or rather, the ones he hadn't healed at Mrs. Figg's, "You're lucky I healed your ribs when I did." Harry gave a non-committal grunt of recognition. He was lucky.  _ That _ was it.

"I'm going to apply this salve to your skin, within a day or two your bruises will have faded almost completely. For now, you'll have to make do."

"A day or two? But the Weasley's will know -"

"Know what?"

"I don't want them to worry more than they do."

"You were supposedly jumped by muggles, Potter, that's not an everyday worry now, is it?"

Harry pursed his lips and refrained from saying more, the restraint was enough to keep him from blowing his cover, but he assumed Snape saw through that as well based on the smirk he was sporting.

"I will only do the ones you cannot reach yourself -"

"No," Harry protested, sick at the thought of any sort of hands on him, "I can do them myself."

Snape hesitated for only half a beat before he spoke again, "So be it. Drink this."

Harry raised an eyebrow skeptically and Snape rolled his eyes. "Or don't, it is of no matter to me whether or not your pain resides, Potter." He drank and was instantly surprised as a controllable numbness spread through him. "And now this - Skele-gro, the potion I previously gave you should help with discomfort as well as your remaining injuries."

Snape turned his back then, once he had stepped far enough away, Harry cleared his throat, "Thank you, Professor."

He merely hesitated in the doorway and cast a scathing glance over his shoulder, "I will leave you to apply that. Do not desecrate my home as soon as I turn my back."

Harry rolled his eyes, sure that Snape would know just as he was doing it, but Snape was being an ass. Then again, Harry wasn't at all sure why he expected anything more.

He unscrewed the cap on the tiny jar of salve Snape had left him with and set about smoothing a thin layer over the bruises he knew were wrapped around his neck, his arms, and his face-he didn't bother with the rest of them, not when no one would see them anyway. He always wore jeans, and once he was at Hogwarts he would be plenty covered up by his uniform.

Once he had finished, Harry climbed off the table and followed in the direction Snape had gone, it didn't take long to find him, for he was speaking hushed into the fireplace to none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry stopped immediately and stayed hidden behind the wall between them, doing his best to listen.

"- told you, Albus, he's lying, as arrogant as the brat is, you would think he could lie better -"

"Alas, Severus, until he comes forth with the truth, there is nothing to be done. We must have this conversation another time, I believe Harry is all but in the room." Harry froze then, a shamed look came upon his face and he did his best to walk into the room like he'd only just came upon it. Snape fixed him with a curled lip, snarling in his direction.

"Have you not learned the consequences of eavesdropping yet, Potter?"

"I wasn't-I just came to tell you I'd finished." Harry insisted quietly and dropped his eyes from the piercing ones of Severus Snape. He set the salve down on the the table nearest him and turned quickly to exit the room and find his trunk again-because there was something safe about lugging the thing behind him that he couldn't explain.

"Potter. Wait -" Snape commanded and started forward so quickly that Harry was shocked at how close he'd come when he turned and found himself backing away rapidly, "Enough with the insolence, you're  _ bleeding, _ " Harry's brow furrowed and he looked down at his front to source out what Snape was saying, only Snape let out a scathing scoff and turned him roughly at the shoulder, "Your back."

"It's fine - I'll live," Harry insisted and tried to pull out of Snape's grip, but the Potions Master wouldn't relinquish his hold on him. "Let me  _ go  _ -" It was too late then, Harry could feel where his t-shirt had stuck to him and could feel Snape's wand lifting it to examine the extent

of the damage. "I said -"

"Save it," Snape led him back to the room they'd been in earlier and pointed silently at the makeshift examination table. Harry swallowed thickly and climbed up gingerly. "Lie on your stomach," Seeing that he was about to protest, Snape flicked his wand and froze Harry effortlessly before he flipped him with a flick of his wand. "I did warn you." As his t-shirt rose to reveal his back, Harry felt the panic set in-the bruising there was extensive, the lashes from his Uncle's belt-Snape healed him up without a word and unfroze Harry instantly. "Your Uncle, I assume? He did this to you?"

Harry froze and swallowed thickly, "Just because you're an expert Legilimens doesn't mean you can-"

"I didn't need Legilimency to see through you, Potter."

Harry felt his lip curl and he met Snape's onyx eyes hard, almost pleading for him to  _ try  _ it, just try to see through his defenses now. He wouldn't show Snape what his Uncle had done to him, even if he  _ assumed _ to already know.

"You don't know what you're getting at, Professor, and even if you did, there isn't much you could do about it anyway. I'm  _ fine _ . I'd just like to be getting to the Burrow, now." Harry uttered quietly, no sound of reproach in his voice at this point. He was just  _ exhausted _ , starving, longing for some sort of comfort-a comfort he would never get from Snape of all people, "Please, Professor."

"First, I will know what it was that I walked in on back at your home." Snape demanded easily, expectantly.

"That is not my home."

"I will know what happened there all the same, Potter," he raised an eyebrow and waited, Harry knew he had no choice.

"I - my Uncle Vernon was angry with me, that's all...something about  _ another _ fake contest? I don't know. I'm a disgraceful, ungrateful, arrogant little brat and I guess he just lost his temper that time. Is that what you want to hear? He went to grab me and I think I-I used accidental magic, I didn't have my wand or anything, so I didn't  _ mean _ to, it just happened and he went at me again but you showed up -" Harry blurted quickly with a casual shrug and waited with baited breath for Snape's reaction.

"Another fake...contest? This...has happened before?" That was not what he had expected. There was almost something regretful in Snape's tone.

"Last summer when the Order came, Tonks sent them some...fake summons for a lawn keeping award they were to win. Of course, by the time they figured it out and got home, I was gone, so..." Harry shrugged and swallowed thickly.

"I...well, if I had known they would pick up on my ploy so quickly because it had been done before...I would have used something else." Snape admitted in a tone that sounded almost borderline... _ earnest _ .

Harry felt his jaw drop of its own accord and forced himself to snap it shut before Snape could comment on that.

"You sent them...? I - well. You couldn't have known. It's fine." Harry muttered and ran his hand over the back of his head, a pained look on his face. Had he just...for lack of a better word,  _ accepted _ an  _ apology _ (of sorts) from  _ Snape _ , of all people?

Harry cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to his feet, like he would fine that answer there. It was Snape who finally broke the silence.

"Would you...like to go to the Burrow now, then? I'm sure the _ Weasley brood _ and Miss Granger are extremely anxious for your arrival. We are...a bit behind schedule." Harry nodded in response and made to follow Professor Snape. "I will send your things along ahead and we will apparate from here. My home is unplottable." Harry nodded again, as if he understood the deep way this worked.

No sooner than his trunk disappeared did Snape instruct Harry to grasp his arm before he turned on his heel and apparated them just outside the protective charms that were set up on the Burrow. Before they stepped through, Harry hesitated and Professor Snape turned with an impatient eyebrow raise and a snarl on his face.

"If you would, Potter -"

"I just - Professor Snape...could you not mention any of what you saw to the Weasley's...o-or Dumbledore -"

"Professor Dumbledore."

"I-yeah. Professor Dumbledore. It's not worth the trouble, truly, I'm not worth the trouble of-"

"I won't say anything unless I find it is pertinent in some way." Snape insisted coolly and fixed Harry with a glare until he followed in the direction of the seven-story leaning home he considered his second favorite place in the entire world.

He was content to leave everything behind him then.

Snape didn't come inside, he merely greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the door and nodded curtly at them before he turned and made it far enough away to apparate. For that, Harry was grateful. He would be able to settle in here at last.

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cooed and scooped him up in her arms-he was glad that Severus had managed to siphon the blood out of his shirt before he'd come. "By Merlin, Harry, you're so thin - let's get you something to eat, yeah? Sit, sit - everyone's asleep by now but Arthur and I swore we'd wait up for you and let them know when you'd gotten in..." Mrs. Weasley trailed off and let her eyes rake over to the stairwell, but Harry shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine Mrs. Weasley - I'll see them tomorrow anyway. Er - thank you, for having me this summer, I really appreciate it -"

"Oh, Harry - you're always welcome. I don't know why we haven't just started taking you right off the train..." Mr. Weasley insisted just before he clapped him on the shoulder (to which Harry had to stifle a groan) and he turned to offer him a grateful smile, one that tried not to let on how much he knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were taking in-he must have looked like a mess, gaunt and bruised like he was.

"I've just finished a pot of soup, and I've got fresh bread as well, what about some fruit too? And treacle tart, your favorite - I wouldn't let Ron even  _ taste _ it until you got some first." Mrs. Weasley said with a wink as Harry nodded, a bit overwhelmed as she began to set food in front of him, helping after helping of soup until he had to swear to the kindly woman that he was full to bursting.

And he was, literally. Full to bursting. He had to swallow thickly multiple times to keep his soup from making a second appearance. "H-how's work, Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh, he went and got himself a promotion-in the midst of all this chaos, leave it to my Arthur to get a promotion!" Mrs. Weasley cooed and smoothed a hand over Mr. Weasley's hair before Arthur turned back to Harry with a wink and a roll of his eyes.

"It's not so glamorous as it sounds, the hours are brutal, I only just got home before you. And then...well, what with everything going on..." Arthur pursed his lips and swallowed a mouthful of bread before he continued on. "The Ministry is in an uproar, what with Fudge out of office and Scrimgeour stepping in, there's a new calamity every day and he seems to be gunning for more arrests. Azkaban will be over-crowded before long." Harry listened intently, glad for some real news and pursed his lips all whilst doing his best to keep his stomach from churning unnaturally...a notion he wasn't sure came with eating too quickly, or from the words Mr. Weasley was offering up.

"Well, it - it's got to get worse before it gets better, dear." Mrs. Weasley insisted softly though it didn't sound as if her heart was in it, and Harry wasn't sure whether or not she was addressing him, so he stayed quiet and smiled contentedly over his half empty bowl. "Alright then, Harry, you look exhausted -" He tried not to notice the way they both properly took in the sight of him.

"I am, really." He yawned for affect and leapt at the chance to leave-but not before Mrs. Weasley chastised him for trying to clear his dishes.

"Off to bed, now, I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you, you'll have it to yourself!" Mrs. Weasley cooed chipperly with a smile and waved him up towards the steps.

He took the stair two at a time but didn't make it to the twin's room, instead he found the bathroom and dropped to his knees before the toilet so most of his dinner could come back up. He forced himself to stand spat into the basin before he rinsed his mouth and promised himself he would eat much less, and much slower tomorrow to keep this from happening again. Slowly, but surely, he could build his strength back up enough before he went to Hogwarts - Snape would be all but inclined to forget, and Dumbledore wouldn't be any the wiser.

He hoped.

  
  



	5. In Which Charlie Weasley is Concerned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the world they are in, that's all J.K Rowling's!
> 
> Forgive the boring filler-ness of this chapter, it has to be done occasionally, doesn't it?
> 
> I'm super pleased to see that some of you are reading/following this story, just for you, I'll keep going! Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see and I'll do my best!
> 
> Happy reading!

 

* * *

"Wuzzgoinon?" Harry mumbled groggily and reached for his glasses just before he caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair, followed by the unmistakable curls-it could only be Ron and Hermione, though he had to admit, Hermione had done something to tame her hair. It wasn't smothering him like it usually did when she threw his arms around him like this.

"Let 'im breathe, Hermione," Ron started lightly with a grin and gave Harry a clap on the shoulder, "We didn't know you were here already, mate! Mum only just told us - she's sending up a tray for you, too. Reckons you look starved," Ron waved a dismissive hand for which Harry was grateful. He didn't need them all watching him so blatantly close.

"How was your summer, Harry?" Hermione questioned gently with a curiously look on her face that Harry didn't quite understand.

"Well, you know, the usual. I was just with my aunt and uncle, wasn't I?" He raised an eyebrow as Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, "What?" He blurted, an edge to his voice then that Hermione did her best to diffuse.

"We just meant-how have you been doing, Harry? You just look-you look exhausted and run down. We want you to know that we're...we're  _here_  for you, okay?" Hermione insisted with a pitying look on her face that Harry found himself loathing. It had to be a new record for them, only about five minutes until they broached the topic of asking how he was doing since  _Sirius_.

"Great, yeah, thanks Hermione," muttered Harry with his eyes cast somewhere over her shoulder. Ron opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the door banging open behind him as Ginny burst in with her eyes rolled, and a very fit, very blonde-

" _Fleur_?" Harry blurted incredulously before he subconsciously pulled the covers higher to shield himself as she flounced forward and kissed either of his cheeks.

" 'Arry, eet 'az been too long!" She chipped in with a smile before she set down a tray of breakfast in front of him, Mrs. Weasley was the next one in. " 'as no one told 'Arry zat Bill and I are getting married?" Fleur turned accusingly on Mrs. Weasley who flushed and sighed.

"We hadn't gotten around to telling him yet-he only just woke up." Mrs. Weasley explained as Fleur left them behind with what sounded all too like a frustrated huff. Harry raised his eyebrows as Ginny snorted and shook her head.

"Just admit it, mum, you  _hate_  her-"

"I do not hate her, Ginevra-"

"Ooh,  _Ginevra_ , she's angry..." Ginny trailed off with a teasing smirk and shot out of the room ahead of her mother who was jokingly reaching to give her a pinch.  _If only it had ever been that easy for me_...Harry pursed his lips glumly and looked back at Ron and Hermione like he was waiting for them to say something else.

"Oh, er, yeah. Bill and Fleur are getting married next summer...mum's not too thrilled about it, but I don't see what the problem is -"

"Oh, honestly, Ronald! She's horrible! She speaks to us all like we're  _children_ , and she - "

"You liked her well enough when she was helping you with your hair!" Ron pointed out with a gesture of his hand and Hermione's cheeks flushed pink.

"I didn't say I didn't like her - "

"She's horrible?" Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry let out a laugh before he shook his head and dug slowly into his breakfast.

A few bites in and he was pushing the tray away so he could sit up.

"That's all you're eating?" Hermione cut in quickly, and Harry furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his tray-most of it was untouched, but for him it had felt like a full course meal.

"I - yeah?"

Ron knicked a piece of bacon off his plate and Hermione snapped her hand out to whack his arm to which Harry forced himself not to wince, "That's Harry's!"

"' 'e said 'e was finished, 'Mione!" Ron pointed out through a mouthful of food before she left in a huff and Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd done something wrong. "Don't mind her, Harry, she's been like that since she got here - I think she was worried when you didn't answer our letters. Why...why didn't you answer them, anyway?"

"I - your letters?" Harry blurted, unable to help himself, "You didn't send me any letters - and I certainly couldn't send them back since I sent Hedwig to you!"

"Harry - we wrote you multiple times a week, we were so worried about you! We wrote Dumbledore and told him we thought something had bloody happened to you!"  _Something did_ \- Harry wouldn't say this out loud, though.

"I didn't get any letters, Ron - my uncle must have intercepted them, or something." And it was then that Harry realized that must have been the  _truth_  - of course his friends wouldn't have forgotten about him suddenly, not after six fucking years. Harry let out a relieved laugh and shook his head, "I thought you'd all just written me off, or something."

Ron's jaw dropped and he gently punched Harry's shoulder, "You're stark-raving if you think we'd forget about you, Harry, blimey. The number of times we've all almost gotten killed together? How could we ever forget you?" Ron was teasing, Harry knew, but his words cut him somewhere he knew Ron couldn't see because it was the truth.

He killed everyone around him, indirectly or not, he was still responsible.

They spent their days playing quidditch, Harry and Hermione on one team and Ron and Ginny on the other to make it more even. When Charlie and Bill came by to say hello, they paired them off on teams as well and had a few intense matches going.

For the first time in ages, Harry felt truly happy, the soreness in his body had all but fled and was replaced by a soreness that came from spending all his time trying to rebuild what body mass he'd lost over the summer. His bruising had faded to the point that it was almost unnoticeable when he stepped out of the showers in the morning and looked himself over in the talking mirror that told him more often than not he was far too thin...at least now the mirror was telling him to keep it up. He'd grown quite fond of the mirror encouraging him as he went along with slowly rebuilding himself.

He wouldn't be caught dead back in the wizarding world looking weak and defeated, or starved and beaten. And now that Ron and Hermione knew the papers were getting it all right...that he actually was the so called "Chosen One" - he needed to believe it too. It would be up to him to kill Voldemort - or die trying.

The trip to Diagon Alley seemed to have a cloud over it, with the Alley empty save for those bustling around to get the things they needed before leaving immediately, the certain businesses that had closed were notable losses along the alley. The only cheer at all had been the storefront of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - and it seemed to be the only string of activity that was constantly going. Harry couldn't help but find brilliance in their bright display. The very place seemed to ward off any and all darkness, the very same darkness that had consumed the alley in all as it once had been. He was grateful, at least, that there were a fair few not content on letting Voldemort ruin everything, as the immediate world around him had once seemed to.

* * *

The rest of the trip had gone fairly well - save for the run in with Malfoy and his mother, and getting kicked out of Borgin and Burkes for their obvious investigating, Harry was content to be back at the Burrow. Diagon Alley hadn't been the same, the magic it had once held was tainted now, and he'd rather peruse what they'd bought at Fred and George's in the safe confines of the Weasley's home. Or rather, he thought he would. It wasn't until he'd begged off for some fresh air that Charlie had come around to speak to him.

Clearly, he'd been waiting to catch him alone for a moment, and that had never seemed to bode well for Harry.

"Mum and dad have been pretty worried about ye', Harry." Charlie admitted gently as he dropped down next to him on the front steps and turned his eyes to study the stars where Harry had been fixated. He clapped a consoling hand to Harry's back before letting it fall away. "We all have. Remus especially, he said he hadn't been able to get through to ye' over the summer."

Harry turned to look at Charlie, who seemed content to avoid eye contact for the moment. Harry had no problem obliging him that. "I - my Uncle must have intercepted everyone's letters, I didn't even know anyone had been sending any," it sounded like a lame excuse, but Charlie accepted it all the same, it made sense considering Harry's situation.

"Bill told me how Dursley had acted after Mad-Eye and the lot spoke to him about Sirius..." Charlie trailed off then and took a side-long glance at Harry, as if he expected the boy to react.

"And?" Harry didn't mean for his voice to sound so bitter, but he couldn't help it.

"And you'd tell us, wouldn't you? If he - if something was happening there? Anything out of the ordinary?" Charlie ducked his head to meet Harry's down cast eyes, "You can tell us anything, Harry, all we want is to keep you safe. You've become family to us - "

"Nothing is happening, Charlie, really. I appreciate it, but I'm fine," Harry responded quickly, too quickly perhaps, but there wouldn't be any room for Charlie to say he'd hesitated. "My Uncle's a bitter old man, he might be hell to live with, but it's not unbearable."

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows at Harry then for a long moment before nodding. He ran a hand over his jaw and pushed himself to his feet, "Well, alright, Harry. Alright. Just keep what I said in mind. I'd bloody well kill the fucker if you asked. I've got lot's of dragon's at the ready, ye' know."

Harry let out a light chorus of laughter, as he knew was to be expected with the offer, but a part of him almost wished it was a request he could make of Charlie, of anyone, really.

It would be something to think about when the nightmares got bad, anyway.


	6. In Which Snape Gives Harry a Grand Entrance

**Disclaimer** : Neither the world nor the characters are mine, just some of the situations I'm putting them in!

Happy reading.

* * *

 

 

Leaving the Burrow was harder than Harry had thought it would be. It wasn't that he wasn't desperate to get back to Hogwarts, to find some semblance of his life before everything had gone straight to hell. Hogwarts was the only constant for him - but that was just it, wasn't it? Hogwarts was the constant, it was there to remind him of everything awful that he'd ever been through. The Burrow, at least, the Burrow was there for him, it was a safe place. The Weasley's had always been there for him, the Weasley's had offered him a home with them numerous amounts of times...if anything, he had a place to go back to that would feel more like home than anything else.

They took the Ministry cars to King's Cross, Harry averted his gaze while the Weasley's said their goodbyes, only to be drawn in by Mrs. Weasley who took her time giving him a strong armed hug, "I would have liked to put some more meat on your bones before you went back to school, Harry, promise me you'll take care of yourself? I'd tell you to stay out of trouble but well, trouble just seems to find you, doesn't it?" Mrs. Weasley offered him up a meek smile before she shooed him after the others, "You'll come for Christmas, won't you Harry?"

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley, if you'll have me," he gave her those last words with charming wink before he climbed onto the train and went to find a compartment while Ron and Hermione had their prefect meeting.

The train ride itself was fairly calming, for a while he was able to do some of his summer work, most of which he'd forgotten about while he'd been at the Dursley's, and had been too busy enjoying life to do while at the Weasley's. Hermione must've assumed he'd finished it all off, otherwise she would have been harping on him for it, wouldn't she?

He'd been about to go find the trolley for something to eat, only just then he caught sight of Malfoy - and he looked far too much like he was up to something for Harry to let it slide. Vaguely, he remember Mrs. Weasley's warning, not to go looking for trouble surely fell under the category of taking care of himself...but he couldn't shake the eerie feeling he got every time he saw Malfoy. Since the run in in Diagon Alley, since they'd followed him to Borgin and Burkes...his decision had been made well before he decided to grab his cloak and threw it over himself.

It had been a truly stupid idea, a foolhardy, Gryffindor move - and he didn't even have anything to show for it. He hadn't seen Malfoy's mark, he'd only alluded to it after all. Harry should have known, he should have known it wasn't going to be this easy.

And now he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts after all. The train was already pulling away, by the time anyone found him under this cloak, if they found him at all. the train would be back at King's Cross. And maybe no one would find him their, either, maybe it would take until the holidays when someone boarded this compartment and stumbled over him...

"Wotcher, Harry - "

Tonks?

"Finite," she murmured over him and gave him his movement back, to which he forced himself to his feet and grabbed the cloak, "We're going to have to jump, Harry - this ought to be fun." He snorted over the sarcasm in her voice, only to remember that Malfoy had crushed his nose under his heel, "Come on, then, on three - " Tonks urged just after she pulled the door open.

Harry leapt and managed to land on his feet where Tonks landed besides him much less gracefully.

"Always a clutz, wasn't I?" She murmured as he helped her to her feet and she gestured for him to head towards the gates, "Everyone's bound to be bent out of shape because you're missing, I should send a patronous up to let them know you're alive. Blimey - who the ruddy hell did this to you, Harry?" She wondered with a gesture to his nose after she sent off her patronous and got a better look at him.

"Malfoy," Tonks nodded like she'd been expecting it, though he supposed no one else would have made proper sense anyway, would they?

"I can fix it up for you, better than making you wait through the feast to see Pomfrey - " Harry was about to protest, but Tonks was already tapping his nose and muttering episkey. A tingling sensation spread through him from the tip of his nose, and when he reached up to feel it, the pain was gone.

"Brilliant, Tonks, thank you - "

"If the pair of you have had enough dawdling, the Feast is waiting. You've already missed the Sorting, Mr. Potter and I daresay your grand entrance might be ruined if you don't come along," Snape's voice was as cold, drawling, and unwelcome as ever. Harry swallowed thickly, he'd been dreading the moment where he'd have to see Snape again, but this was worse than he would have ever thought.

"Right, Harry, well, good luck, say hi to Ron and Hermione, oh, and Ginny too," Tonks waved before she turned on her heel and left Harry before he could even wave, leaving him to make the walk with Snape.

Harry kept his lips tightly pursed, he didn't trust himself not to say anything that would absolutely screw him.

"You will be starting Occlumency lessons again. With me," Snape said finally and Harry froze as soon as the words registered with him.

"With you?" Harry blurted, unable to stop himself from reacting incredulously to the ridiculous bullshit Snape was spewing at him now. What was this? Revenge? Some prolonged method of torture under the ruse of helping him? No, no, Harry had had enough of Snape's help. "I can occlude just fine. I've been practicing, and I don't need you assaulting my memories to - "

"Five points from Gryffindor for your tone, ten for your attitude, and fifteen for being late. My, my, Potter, you've outdone your father on that one. I don't think anyone has ever put their house in the negative range so soon into term," Snape pointed out scathingly, a satisfied smirk on his face. Harry opened his mouth to spit something sneering in Snape's direction but held his tongue and thought better of it, "Occlumeny lessons will resume tomorrow in my office after dinner, and believe me, Potter, if I had a choice - "

"Our choices aren't what matter here, are they, Professor?" Harry muttered sarcastically with a bitter thought in Dumbledore's direction, and if he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that smirk on Snape's face was almost genuine.

"Five more points. Keep it up, Potter, I would love the house cup in my office another year," Snape quipped with his hands folded tightly behind his back. Harry pursed his lips and reached up to wipe the drip of blood that was coming from his nose.

"Bloody hell -"

"Why does it always seem to be that I find you when you're bleeding? It's infernally tedious," Harry rolled his eyes when he was sure Snape couldn't see him and take more points.

"Why don't you ask Malfoy?" Harry muttered out of pure frustration and a hard glare in Snape's direction. Snape raised his eyebrows at Harry but chose not to say anything. As they stopped in front of the doors to the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help but let his eyes flick towards the stairs, "Can't I just go to Gryffindor tower?"

"You've dug your grave, now you can lie in it. You wanted a grand entrance, a grand entrance you'll get."

"I never said I wanted a grand entrance," He muttered under his breath as Snape swept the doors open and gave Harry a nudge through them, leaving him in the next moment to face the stares of the entire hall on his own.


	7. In Which Harry's Cupboard Was Actually Useful

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own the character, nor the world they are in, they and that belong to J.K Rowling!

Warning for cursing and flashbacks of an abusive nature.

Happy reading!

* * *

"Bloody hell, Snape? Teaching us Defense?" Ron repeated for what must have been the umpteenth time that night, "Dumbledore must finally be losing it, to give Snape -"

"Professor Snape, Ronald," Hermione reminded him with a roll of her eyes, though she too looked like she was having trouble finding the rhyme and reason to Dumbledore's latest move. They both seemed to be looking at Harry for answers, he had none to give them. He was just as troubled as Ron was, truly, he didn't understand it - Dumbledore hadn't trusted Snape to teach defense, he'd forever been keeping him separated from that line of work...and Harry couldn't see where anything had changed.

"I just don't understand, after all this time? We're going to fail our bloody NEWT's now, 'Mione! Aren't you worried about that?" Ron assaulted quickly with something that surely he thought Hermione would react in kind. Harry pulled a hand through his hair and dropped heavily into the sofa, further back into the cushions. It was a comfort to be back in Gryffindor Common Room, but he knew it would be short-lived. Another night waited for him in the dormitory, at least now he wouldn't have to worry about anyone hearing him. He could finally cast a silencing charm on himself, something he hadn't realized through all his other years here. Poor Ron, to have to wake nightly and deal with Harry's terrors...

"We have to be up in a few hours, we'd do well to get some sleep," Hermione said finally, after Ron repeated like a broken record another couple of times, "At least, I'll get some sleep then, you two stay and figure out how best to process what we can't change. Professor Dumbledore knows what's best, after all, you two should know that best." And Harry did. Know it, anyway. Or, at least, Harry knew that Dumbledore thought he knew what was best, and he'd trusted it all his life.

Only, he was living proof that old men sometimes lose their way.

Harry raised his eyebrows as she swept from the Common Room and took the girls stairway up to her dormitory. He looked to Ron for a minute before he sighed and stood himself. Begrudgingly, Harry followed.

He changed quickly into his pajamas, careful not to betray the marks on his skin to anyone else in the dormitory. He wasn't prepared to unleash that story just yet. Nor was he ready to let any of them hear the way his nightmares had changed into something less like Voldemort, and more like -

Well. It didn't matter. They weren't about to hear it anyway.

Harry cast his silencing charms, drew the hanging around his four poster, and surrendered himself to the nightmares waiting for him once he closed his eyes.

It started off innocently enough.

He was weeding, plucking them from the garden as he often was over the summer for Aunt Petunia. Weeding, at least, gave him a chance to get fresh air, to revel in the moments he was able to see the sky and the sun, to feel a breeze against his skin.

It didn't stay innocent.

He relived his rape, he relived another beating. He relived snakes encircling his throat and cutting off his airway, he screamed for help, he screamed and screamed. And, for good measure, Voldemort was the one who came to him. Voldemort and his killing curse was all the reprieve he needed.

Harry woke earlier than the rest of his dorm mates that morning, he showered quickly and examined himself in the mirror. For the most part, he didn't look as sickly as he had four weeks ago. There was color in his skin again, color that made him look more human and less ghost. He could count his ribs, but he couldn't count them as easily as he'd been able to before Mrs. Weasley and three-helpings of everything she'd served had found him at the end of the summer.

It was hard to see his back, the bruising on him was gone, but the scars left from Vernon's whippings were not. They would serve as reminders for the rest of his life. Reminders he wouldn't show anyone. Once he killed Voldemort, he wouldn't have to worry about anyone caring about him, right? That was all he was here for, that was all he was good for. If he was even good for that.

* * *

Lessons that day had gone fairly well. It had felt good to use his wand again, to see his Professors in all their glory in front of the classroom. He hadn't had to see Snape, he didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts until Wednesday, and Potions hadn't been all that horrible...thanks to the Half Blood Prince and his helpful hints.

The only thing that Harry was dreading now, of course, was  _Occlumency._ He had half-considered going to Dumbledore to beg for some sort of alternative. He'd considered trying to prove to him that he'd gotten better at it, that the last thing he needed was Snape's help, but the fear of being rejected was far too humiliating to stand. Dumbledore wouldn't want to deal with him, he hadn't deigned to deal with him all summer, had he? What would be the change now?

For that reason alone, Harry forced himself through dinner in the Great Hall where Hermione had tried and failed to get him to eat something more substantial than the broth of the soup that had been laid out before them.

As Snape rose from his chair at the head table, Harry did as well with words of good fortune from his best friends. At least they were on his side.

Harry beat Snape to his office, but he didn't dare go inside before the Professor had allowed him. He'd long since given up the right of being in Snape's office alone. Ever since the incident with the pensieve -

"I see you're punctuality has markedly improved."

Harry raised his eyebrows before turning to greet Snape with the courtesy of eye contact. Had that been a compliment? As mild a one as he'd ever received, but all the same, a compliment. From Snape.

He followed Snape into his office and swallowed the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. He didn't want to have to deal with this, he didn't want to deal with Snape picking apart his memories - he didn't want Snape to see anything that he was trying purposely to run from himself. It wasn't Snape's business, and he shouldn't have to worry about his own business being broadcast to the entire bloody world -

"Let's make this quick, then, Potter. If you find it in yourself to successfully occlude me, you can leave and you won't have to come back again."

It sounded too good to be true.

" _Legilimens!_ "

It came too quick for Harry to focus himself. He thought, at the very least, that he would have had the chance to remove his cloak from his shoulders before Snape started in with his onslaught.

The memories raced by too quickly for Harry to grab one and hold onto it, to keep Snape from getting any closer to them. He didn't want Snape to touch them, to touch his memories, each more sinister than the last. Snape latched onto one, finally, the image of his Uncle with his belt off sprung to Harry's mind and it was all Harry could do not to scream. He did his best to picture his cupboard, he pulled the cupboard to his mind, thrust his memory inside it and forced Snape away from him so violently when he came back to the room, Snape was a few paces away from where he'd started and he was watching Harry curiously.

"Again," Harry spoke too quickly for Snape to comment, too quickly for Snape to say anything but  _legilimens._

The memory this time was different, he was at the top of the stairs one moment, his Uncle's hands were at his back, and the next he was tumbling, crashing into the banister and landing at the bottom of the stairs with his arm bent crooked and his forehead cut open. His uncle didn't stop there, though. He raced down the stairs and drove his foot so hard into Harry's ribcage that the snaps were audible.

And once again, Harry borrowed his cupboard and threw Snape and all his prodding inside it.

"Unusual choice, the use of a cupboard," Snape commented but didn't question any further, and Harry wouldn't give him the satisfaction of offering him an answer. If he prodded the memories any further, he would understand why soon enough. After all, his Hogwarts letter had been addressed to the cupboard under the stairs, " _Legilimens!_ "

The memory this time was a fresh one. Or fresher than the others. It was summer after his fourth year. He'd just woken the entire house from a nightmare about Cedric. It was his uncle that came to him this time, his uncle that closed and locked the door upon entry. His uncle had perched himself at the edge of Harry's bed and tentatively, like he was afraid that Harry would react, he reached to pull the covers slowly off of Harry.

 _"What are you doing?"_  Harry had blurted then and reached to draw them back up, but Vernon had already moved to waist of Harry's pajama bottoms -

Harry threw Snape from his mind violently, and again he found him a few paces away, only this time Harry himself was on his hands and knees, "That wasn't - that's not...it's private, you can't just do that!" Harry shouted, but his voice was hoarse and cracked, too hoarse for his words to come off as careless and threatening as he would have liked them to sound. Especially to Snape.

"What was that, Potter?" Snape hissed and started forward in a way so sharply that Harry threw himself backwards away from Snape, like he had anywhere to escape to.

"It wasn't _anything_ , Professor," Harry hissed in return and forced himself to his feet, gripping for the nearest table to steady himself.

"What - "

" _Nothing_! It was nothing!" Harry shouted and sparks shot off from the edge of his wand, a warning if there ever was one. "I occluded you - not right away, but I  _did._ We - we're done with this, I - I'm done with this bullshit, you just, you don't even give me a chance! You just, you assault me without letting me - "

"Is the Dark Lord going to give you a chance, Potter? Is he going to sit back and let you gather yourself before he invades your mind? Do you want him to have this ammunition against you, should he invade you dreams once again, because we all remember how fantastically that turned out?" Snape snarled, and Harry felt himself trembling so violently that he had to grab for the table again to keep himself from losing it entirely, "I will ask you one last time - "

"You can ask all you want, Snape."

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Take a million, for all I care!"

"You need to relax yourself, Potter."

"I am relaxed!"

"Truly? Fine,  _legilimens."_

Harry was reduced to his knees again, only this time he didn't have it in himself to lock Snape in his cupboard and push him out of his mind.

The memory was the same. Only Snape was pushing it further, further than Harry had ever seen it through before - at least since it had actually happened to him. Vernon was pulling his clothes off, despite Harry's struggling - and when Harry's struggles became too much for him to manipulate, he would pound on him until he stopped...

This time, Snape pulled himself from the memory and surveyed Harry carefully where he was on the floor once again, panting and trying to regain his composure before Snape turned on him again and tried to pull the answers out of him.

"Harry, Harry look at me."

_Harry?_

Since when had Snape ever called him 'Harry'?

Harry wouldn't look at him all the same, there was no new-found kindness that Severus Snape could pretend to have found that would make Harry look at him in that moment. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet and turned from Snape's office, forcing one foot in front of the other until he was back in the safety of Gryffindor Tower.

 


	8. In Which Harry Makes a Poor Decision

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the character or the world they are in, they belong to the illustrious J.K Rowling!

Happy reading!

* * *

"I told you, Professor, I just don't want to take it anymore," Harry insisted, trying his hardest for there to be an earnestness in his voice that he hoped Professor McGonogall would believe. She didn't seem to be taking well to the idea.

"I made a promise to you in front of that...that vile woman, Mr. Potter. Your dream is to be an auror, Defense Against the Dark Arts is a required NEWT-level course. You scored an 'Outstanding' on your OWL's, and that is more than satisfactory -"

"It  _was_ my dream," Harry blurted, a full on lie. Though, considering where his life was headed, down the yellow-brick-bloody-road to Voldemort, he supposed it didn't matter if he became an auror or not, he'd still have to hunt Voldemort, the darkest wizard of all. His situation was a bit beyond the Ministry based profession. "I don't want to take the class any longer."

Professor McGonogall sighed and shook her head, "I know what this is about, Harry, and I simply cannot allow you to drop the class. I won't. It won't be easy seeing as you and Professor Snape have never quite gotten along, but it would be a shame - not to mention ludicrously poor judgement on my part to allow you to throw away your talent simply because you and the Professor have a history of disagreement."

Harry pursed his lips and opened his mouth to protest once again, only Professor McGonogall held up her hand and silenced him before he had the chance to speak again.

"I've given you my answer, Mr. Potter. You will continue with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Perhaps one day you'll understand why."

At that, Professor McGonogall ushered him out of her classroom and along to his next class, which was, consequently, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

There was not a chance in hell.

Instead of reporting to the Defense classroom, Harry wandered back to Gryffindor Tower, and shoved his invisibility cloak into his bag in case he needed to hide from any Professors...or anyone looking for him. He assumed he would have to skip lunch too...a visit to the kitchens would be in order. He grabbed some of his homework and brought that along too, at least if he was going to skip Defense he could be productive about it.

It didn't take long for him to settle in behind tapestry where a long passage stretched behind it.

He had managed to cap off his charms essay before he succumbed to sleep. As expected, he hadn't slept at all after he'd run out of Snape's office, there had been no way he was going to subject himself to sleep after that. Instead he spent the night in the Common Room, distracting himself with the quidditch book Hermione had given him for his birthday, as well as polishing his Firebolt and practicing the transfiguration spells McGonogall had written on the syllabus for them for the first day. He could be productive when he wanted to be, sod whatever it was Snape thought about him.

Sleep was a fitful thing. He spent most of his time running from an enraged Vernon, when it wasn't Vernon it was Snape, laughing at him behind a Death Eater's mask. He hadn't seen Snape's face, but something in his dream had just told him who it was, he knew it was Snape behind that mask. And then, at one point, it wasn't. It was Malfoy.

Malfoy took shape of something more sinister then, the red eyes and slits for a nose. Sirius falling through the veil again, his Uncle smashing him back against the wall in the hallway so hard he saw stars before his eyes and sank to the floor, and then he was in Snape's office again on his knees. It was all like a dream within a dream, only now it seemed he was conditioned to relive his worst memories while he was asleep too.

Harry woke with a start and a cool sweat. There were no windows to tell him what time it was, but something had him believing he hadn't only slept through Defense Against the Dark Arts and lunch...but most likely double charms as well. He poked his head around the edge of the tapestry and found himself caught up with the group of students heading down to the Great Hall, including, of course, Ron and Hermione.

"HARRY!" Hermione called out and forced her way through, Ron followed in her wake with an apologetic look in his direction, "Where have you been? We were so worried! Professor Flitwick was about to summon Dumbledore - we had to tell him you were in the infirmary, or rather, Ron did - " Figured, Hermione could never lie to Flitwick, not when there was an obvious chance the lie would be found out.

"I just fell asleep, I skived Defense and I -"

"You skived Snape's class? Blimey, Harry, do you have a death wish all of a sudden? Actually, I guess it's not all that sudden..." Ron blurted incredulously and shook his head in Harry's direction, leaving him to screw up his face and look down at his feet as if he were being reprimanded.

"Did he say anything?" Harry couldn't help but ask, at least he would know what it was he'd have to deal with.

"Not a word, actually. We thought he knew something we didn't and that was why -" Hermione trailed off, catching the worried expression on Harry's face.

"He didn't say anything?" This worried Harry more than it settled him, if Snape hadn't said anything...had he gone to Dumbledore?  _Fuck._

Hermione and Ron exchanged a quick glance that Harry pretended not to see. He didn't want to deal with whatever it was they wanted to say to him, not right now. He just felt sick, only he hadn't eaten since last night, seeing as the idea of eating breakfast had made him feel infinitely nauseous, especially when his mind was so fixed on -

"C'mon then, Harry, you must be starved, at least you woke up in time for dinner -" Ron started and clapped him on the back as they rounded the corner to the stairs that would lead them down to the Great Hall, only, Harry stopped short and shook his head, blanching at the thought of having to see Professor Snape at the head table.

"I-I'm not hungry, I think I'll just go back to the tower -" Harry murmured and started backtracking, though, clearly, he hadn't been quick enough because both Hermione and Ron looped their arms in his and practically dragged him forward down the stairs and through the opened doors. "Just, fine - okay, fine, let's just sit here." Harry pleaded and dug his heels into the ground until they obliged and dropped down on either side of him.

"Harry, what the bloody hell -"

"If Snape see's me I'll be fucked, Ron, what do you think?"

"Well, if you hadn't skipped his class, Harry -" Hermione started in what sounded eerily close to her know-it-all voice, so close, in fact, that Harry rolled his eyes and lashed out before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, I bloody well get that, thanks, Hermione, truly brilliant observation."

"Lay off her, Harry, it's not her fault -" Ron started defensively as Hermione sighed and withdrew dejectedly into herself.

"You too? You know, fuck it after all, I'll just go to the kitchens." At that, before either of them could say anything to stop him, Harry swept from the table and shoved quickly past the students filing into the hall without taking note that Snape wasn't already at the Professors table and was, instead, on his way inside the Great Hall, eyes peeled for Potter.

Harry tried to duck behind a rather large and burly Hufflepuff but it was too late, Snape had seen him and had caught the collar of his robes swiftly with his long, slender fingers.

"Just the person I was looking for," Snape hissed coolly as Harry gave up his struggle and resigned to letting Snape lead him from the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione staring painfully after him.

 


	9. In Which Harry Is Dubbed The-Coward-Who-Cannot-Sleep

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the world they are in, J.K Rowling does!

Warning in this chapter for some language (as all chapters?) as well as brief mentions of abuse. Nothing graphic, just thoughts.

Happy reading.

* * *

Harry sat as far back from Snape's desk as he could without looking like he was terrified of facing the Potions Master, even though he was markedly sure that he was about to meet some untimely death. At the very least, however, this wasn't going to pleasant in the slightest. Not to mention the fact that he was shaken with rage, sure that Snape had gone running right to Dumbledore with the darkest of Harry's secrets. Or rather, one of the darkest. But he was sure Snape had done some ridiculous amount of deduction and illustrated in gruesome detail the rest of it.

Snape, at the present, was pulling papers onto his desk to grade - leave it to him to have assigned an assignment due only on the second day of classes. No doubt, Harry wouldn't even have the chance to turn his in for some sort of credit. Why should Snape be lenient with him when he never had been before? In all honesty, Harry would have hated him more for it.

After a prolonged silence, Snape finally looked up over his desk before he sat himself and let his onyx eyes bore into the bright green ones of Harry's own. There was something different about Snape from this angle. Maybe it was the fact that he was sitting, sitting and therefore not as commanding a presence as he usually was when he stood above the rest of them, or when Harry was on the ground, looking up. It was then, too, that Harry noticed Snape's hair had lost it's typically greasy and rank quality. In fact, his hair looked quite normal now, (not having spent all day immersed in potion fumes and heat, Harry assumed) despite it's length. In fact, it reminded him something of Sirius -

_Sirius._

The thought still pained him desperately, despite Harry doing his best not to let his thoughts wander too often to his dead godfather, a reminder like this was ridiculous. Maybe he'd gone too long trying to run from his guilt. He shook the thought, physically shook his head and tried to rid himself the weight of Sirius's death and instead tried to return Snape's silent glare with the same vehemency.

"I believe you owe me an explanation, Mr. Potter," finally, finally, Snape's voice cut the heavy air of his office with something that might have resembled a knife, if the cliche was going to be used, it might as well have been formidable.

"I don't owe you anything, I told Professor McGonogall I wanted to drop Defense and she wouldn't let me," Harry blurted quickly, an obvious edge to his voice as he snarled his words in the general direction of the Potions Master, without meeting his eyes. It felt harder to look at Snape  _and_ speak.

"Try again, without your insolence, and the attitude," Snape instructed, his voice clipped and cold - but that was it. No other insults, no points taken away, no more anger in the room than Harry's own.

Harry swallowed thickly and, deciding not to push his luck, he forced his tone to sound even, "Professor McGonogall wouldn't let me drop your class."

"So you simply decided not to show up for an entire day's worth of lessons?" Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry who dropped his eyes to his hands where they twisted nervously in his lap. This was worse than Snape ranting and raving at him, this was almost - he felt sort of ashamed.

"That part was an accident. I fell asleep," Harry mumbled and looked up through his lashes at Snape who still sat with an eyebrow raised.

"Speak up, Potter."

"I fell asleep!" Harry snapped and sat back again with a huff.

"An entire nights worth of sleep and you still managed to sleep the entire day away, Potter? And this, the boy they've declared to be 'the  _Chosen_  one'," Snape sighed and left off before he crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed Harry carefully. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to manipulate Potter into a false sense of security, and his  _grudges_  would do him no good now.

Furthermore, it would serve for Severus to remember that  _Harry Potter_  was not his  _father_. Or so Albus said.

"I haven't been -" Harry cut himself off and shook his head, he didn't need to explain himself to Snape, not when the Potions Master was sneering at him like that.  _Fuck it, fuck this_.

"And  _why_  have you not been sleeping?"

"How did you -"

"Contrary to popular belief, or rather, your own beliefs, I'm not a fool, and the less you continue to take me for one, the less you will find yourself sitting before me with a shell-shocked, dumbfounded look on your painfully irritating face. I'll pose the question one more time, Mr. Potter, why haven't you been sleeping?" Snape waited, though Harry decided he wouldn't try his patience any further than he already had.

"I just can't," Harry murmured, though it was clear he was holding back. Snape raised an eyebrow and waited, so Harry sighed and forced himself to give the Potions Master more than he wanted to, "Nightmares."

"Nightmares," Snape repeated, enunciating every syllable in a way that made even one word sound something ridiculously condescending for absolutely no reason. Harry didn't say anything in return, if Snape expected him to, he was sorely out of luck. Mainly because Harry didn't know what he could possibly offer his Professor after one god damned word, "Are you clearing your mind before you go to sleep?"

Harry looked up sharply at Snape and furrowed his eyebrows. That was it? No scathing remark, no unnecessarily rude comment about him being a pathetic child? "I've been trying, when that doesn't work I just...stay awake and get work done or, I don't know, think?" It was about as honest as he was going to get with Professor Snape, of all people, the closest Snape would get without Legilimency to Harry's mind.

"How do you expect to be an auror if you don't take Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potter? How do you expect to defeat the Dark Lord if you do not even deign to learn the more advanced basics of Defense? I know you are arrogant, Potter, but this is a pig-headed move, even your father could not surpass. Even he knew he needed Defense to become and auror -"

"My dad wanted to be an auror?" All the time that Harry had spent with Sirius, and he'd never even asked...mainly he'd just been catching up on lost time with his Godfather, unable to change the fate of his parents deaths...he hadn't even asked -

"Last I had  _heard_ he had passed his test and was in further training," Snape informed him, as cordially cold as anyone could have ever been, but Harry would take it nonetheless, "Why did you attempt to drop my class,  _Potter_?" This would be the last chance that Snape would give Harry to confess the truth, and Potter had to know that he was wearing thin.

Harry opened his mouth, ready to give an answer but closed it again, quickly catching onto how disarmed Snape's borderline kindness had made him. The  _bastard_.

Harry could see right through him now, he could see what Snape was doing, subtly trying to push Harry until he walked into the trap he had manipulated so snake-like that Harry felt dirty just sitting across from him.

Snape wanted to pull something from him that he had done his absolute best to bury since coming back to Hogwarts. Whatever Snape was planning on doing with the very memories that Harry wanted to desperately to just  _leave behind him_ , Harry wanted no part of it. He didn't need any help, not that Snape would ever truly help Harry unless Dumbledore didn't order him to. It was exactly the move a  _Slytherin_  would make, and Snape had long since drawn that line between them. He was manipulating one of the most painful memories in Harry's life, to try and pull another out of him. "I don't want to be an auror. Training as an auror will only serve to distract me from the real task at hand. I won't be taught to kill Voldemort, at least, not by one of his  _Death Eater lackeys_ , and I see no point in wasting my time sitting through  _your_  version of Defense Against the Dark Arts, a position you only got because Dumbledore  _pities_  you," Harry's chest was heaving with effort by the time he was finished.

Questioning not only Snape's loyalty, but his abilities after everything Severus Snape  _had_  done for him? It was disgusting, a lower blow than Snape had dealt himself. Harry didn't feel bad, he was too busy reveling in his  _shame_. The thing Snape truly wanted from Harry was too  _painful_ , too  _shameful_  for Harry to admit. He was a  _wizard_ , and he'd let someone like  _Vernon_  do something unforgivable to him. He would rather lash out at Snape a million times over than let Snape humiliate him again.

"Is that the answer you plan to stick with,  _Potter_?" Snape's onyx eyes glittered with the prospect of verbally lacerating every inch of Harry  _Potter_ , the surname that had proven to be the bane of his existence for [i]two[/i] generations.

"Yes."

"Yes,  _sir_."

"We've had this conversation before -"

" _Potter_  -"

"There's no need to call me  _sir_."

Snape stood then and flicked his wand sharply so that Harry's chair yanked violently away from the desk and turned to follow him as Snape paced around his desk and stood right before Harry, giving the  _child_  no place else to look -  _but_ directly at him.

"The  _Dark Lord_ , Potter, in my presence - and you shall be seeing a lot of me - will be known as the  _Dark Lord,_  and only that. You're correct, for once in your illustrious career, in saying that I cannot teach you, but you are sorely misled if you truly believe that anyone possibly  _could_. While I am not a man capable of sympathy, I most certainly won't blame the next person who attempts to aid you when they turn you away after they witness your innate ability to remain inept, no matter the brigand of naive children you have tailing after you like lost  _puppies_ , as if they truly believe your simpleminded-self can get by on something other than the sacrifices that others have made for you."

Snape flicked his wand again causing the chair beneath Harry to vanish entirely and, for a moment, Severus genuinely enjoyed the way Potter's arms flailed as he grasped for something to latch onto. With strong, agile hands, Severus caught a handful of Harry's robes and kept him from hitting the cold stone floor. In that moment, Harry was incredibly aware of the strength and speed that Severus Snape could move with, and realized he was sorely outnumbered.

At least with Vernon, he could run.

The irony of this situation wasn't lost on him, Snape clutching the front of Harry's robes, in absolute control of Harry's immediate  _fate_. "Detention for a month, whenever I do so choose." Snape released the front of Harry's robes, but Harry managed to get his feet under him in time to keep himself from falling,

"Forty points from Gryffindor for your insatiable need to have truly  _talented_  witches and wizard lay their necks on the line for your disparagingly pathetic, infuriatingly half-witted and truly  _trivial_  existence, ten more for your lack-witted remarks. You are undeserving, and you seem successful in proving that more and more  _every_ day," Snape clasped his hands in front of him and looked down his nose at Harry with a disgust Harry had been used to his entire life, "Since you will have an adequate amount of time playing 'The-Coward-Who-Can't-Sleep due to your [i]bad dreams[/i], I expect three feet of parchment covering the material we went over in class today, as well as the essay I assigned for homework before your first detention tomorrow, 7:30  _sharp_." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape spoke right over him with an unfailingly sinister glare, "Failure to meet my standards on these assignments will result in expulsion from the quidditch team, as well as more House Points. And then, I will go to the Headmaster, and I am supremely sure you know how that conversation will go. Now  _get_  out of my sight."

Harry tore away from Snape's paralyzing gaze then, grabbed his school bag from the floor, and very nearly ran for the door. He had just almost made it out when Snape spoke one last time with the intention to  _maim_ , "It is no loss for the auror department, Potter, if you do not wish to join them. I daresay you would have made an even more pathetic imitation than your father."

* * *

A/N: What do you think, did I drive the knife in hard enough?


	10. In Which Harry Apologizes

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the character or the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

Warning in this chapter for language and perhaps some minor suicidal tendencies/thoughts? Let's just say this could perhaps be triggering for some?

Thanks for the reviews and kudos so far as well :)

Happy reading!

* * *

"Just leave me  _alone_ , Hermione, Merlin - don't look at me like that, Ron, I don't give a fuck."

Harry shoved past them both and headed for the dormitory, where he had hopped for peace, only he heard their footsteps falling on the stairs behind him.

"Harry, tell us what happened - what did he say to you? Are you alright?" Hermione didn't seem to understand the fact that he wanted to be left bloody well alone, "You don't look alright, Harry, and you haven't eaten -" He whipped around as soon as they stepped through the door to the sixth year boy dormitory and threw his things on the floor behind him.

"Like either of you would even notice whether or not I was  _fine_ , it took you half the bloody summer to even give a shit about the fact that you hadn't heard a word from me, like you would know a single thing about what I went through, what I'm going through - neither of you have lost a bloody thing in your  _life!_ " Harry spat and stepped up like he was going to force them out, only Ron jumped between him and Hermione as if he thought Harry would attack her. That caused him to take a hesitant step backwards, his apology plain on his face.

"You need to tone it down, Harry, we're just trying to help you. If you don't want it, if you'd rather treat us like  _this?_ Then, fine, you're on your own, mate. Let's go, 'Mione," Ron turned and took Hermione by the hand. They were gone then, but not before Hermione cast a worried look over her shoulder in Harry's direction. He steeled the stony expression on his face and glared at their retreating backs as they left him.

He let out a shout of frustration and aimed a fierce kick at his trunk, ignoring the pain that shot from his toes and up the length of his foot.  _Pain,_  that's right, pain was something he was used to. It was a constant in his life when nothing else was. He climbed into his four poster, drew the curtains around his bed and cast a silencing charm to give himself some privacy.

Harry had told himself over and over on the way back to Gryffindor Tower that nothing Snape had said was true, that he'd just been trying to hurt Harry - it had worked, it did hurt. Everything Harry had convinced himself of over the summer, since Cedric had been murdered because of him really, Snape had just so callously thrown in his face. He spent most of his life listening to adults convince him of one thing or the other, adults pulling his thoughts and his guilt back and forth across him like he wasn't even there. Only he was there and he was the one that had to deal with everything left behind when they forgot about him.

_...lay their necks on the line for your disparagingly pathetic, infuriatingly half-witted and truly trivial existence..._

Numerous witches and wizards had done more than just lay their necks on the line for him, they'd  _died_  for him. He'd killed them, or he might as well have.

Harry let out another violent cry of frustration and slammed his fists against his pillow, but it wasn't the same punishment as a blow to the ribs, or the sting of a sharp backhand. He deserved everything he got, he deserved it all, he didn't deserve the warm comfort of Hogwarts when Sirius was cold and dead, when Cedric was cold and dead, when his parents had sacrificed themselves for him. A truly trivial existence - Snape had hit that nail on the head.

Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time, surely, he could kill Voldemort if it came down to it. Snape could poison Voldemort if he had to, his most  _loyal_ and  _trusted_ servant...they didn't need Harry to do it. Harry was useless, entirely useless. They could do without him, everyone would be so much better off, so much happier without him.

Most of all, they would be  _alive_ without him.

It was not the first time that Harry had posed himself with this harsh reality, but it was the first time that Harry wondered if it were possible to turn his wand on himself. He had sworn to himself that the only time he would ever utter the Killing curse would be on Voldemort himself, but now he wondered if he was wasting time in not  _practicing_  it on himself.

Harry dug his nails hard into his palm, and then harder until he broke through skin and could relish in the mild sting left behind. It wasn't enough, but he wouldn't become one of those muggle news specials he overheard under the living-room window outside the Dursley's whilst getting his yard work done. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and bit down hard there as well before he tangled his hands in his hair and tried to get the constant repetition of Snape's voice to leave his head.

It didn't matter whether or not the words repeated themselves over and over, Harry still knew the truth.

He was responsible for the deaths of anyone that got close to him and he deserved what he got.

* * *

"- gave Mr. Potter a tongue-lashing even I could be proud of."

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not just yet," Snape muttered under his breath and dropped his face in his hands while he waited for Albus to speak. The Headmaster wasn't going to be happy with him, not if Phineas Nigellus was complimenting the way he'd verbally abused Potter in his office just before. Whereas he once only aimed to knock the brat down a few pegs, Severus was sure that he had succeeded in wiping Harry off the entire pedestal he'd been placed on by the rest of the wizarding world. By Albus, himself.

Albus let out a long sigh and stared at Severus over the rims of his half-moon spectacles, "It is not as if you have never verbally-sparred with Harry before, Severus, what is it about this time that has you at war with yourself?"

Severus look up from his hands and opened his mouth to answer only he forced himself to close it again, feeling all too similar to Potter when he had sat before him, opening and closing his mouth, fighting with himself to speak.

If he told Albus what had him so torn up, Potter would become even more insufferable than ever, Snape would have betrayed his confidence in a way that was unforgivable...but since when had he ever bloody cared about Potter's confidence? Since when had he ever given a second thought to what it was that Potter  _wanted_ _._

"He was worse for wear when I retrieved him this summer, and I threw it all back in his face -"

"After all this time, you've finally come to feel for the boy?"

" _Absolutely not,_ " Snape hissed and pushed himself to his feet, tempted to lash out at the Headmaster the same way Harry had when he knocked a number of trinkets and prized possessions off of the Headmaster's desk, "I don't always deeply enjoy being as cruel as I am."

"The life you've been through has left you few other choices, Severus."

"I don't want your pity, Albus, I want you to be angry with me for verbally degrading your  _Golden Boy_!"

"Oh, Severus," The smile on Dumbledore's face was irritatingly kind, and Snape spun away from the Headmaster with a scoff and paced his office, all whilst casting Dumbledore a scathing look now and again, "You're angry with me because I won't treat you the same way you've treated young Harry," it wasn't a question, it was more of a statement, something that Dumbledore felt the need to point out in order to work some sense into Snape, "It's a foolish thing to wish for, Severus, I believe you've done your best by Harry. You may not have treated him with kindness, but you've never harmed the boy, and I don't believe he's come to harm when you have a hand in protecting him. You did rescue him from a dreadful summer with his relatives, you saved him the trouble of being jumped by more muggles. He is in too rough a place to understand that you deserve true thanks for that."

Severus froze and turned to face the Headmaster full-on, a skeptical look on his face. Dumbledore was praising him for his lackadaisical efforts with Potter? Sure, Snape had...'rescued' him, as Dumbledore had put it, Snape had looked out for Harry, despite the fact that he someone seemed to befall every damned thing there was to befall within a kilometer's radius. Dumbledore, as all-knowing and wise, the archetype of all archetypes, did not know the extent of all things Harry Potter had been through, Severus would be that there was no one in the world now who did.

While he was not capable of sympathy, especially not for the likes of Potter, he could not help but feel a possessive need to be protective of the ruddy brat.

And so, instead of divulging Potter's secrets, he merely stared down the Headmaster and, after a prolonged silence uttered a stoic, "I  _suppose_."

At least, Potter could thank him for  _this._

* * *

Harry stumbled down to the Common Room hours later, expecting it to be empty - only Hermione was sitting there like she'd been waiting for him. He froze on the bottom step, only to realize that she was clearly copying over her notes, for him, with tears in her eyes, "I thought y-you might need the notes from cl-class," she stuttered in a way that made Harry feel like absolute scum. He had two best friends that were bending over backwards for him, and all he did was take them for granted and push them away.

Maybe it was for the better. They wouldn't get killed if he pushed them far enough away.

Only, he knew he wouldn't make it without them. Hermione, her goodness and her brilliance. Ron, his genuinely kind and giving nature, his strong-will.

They were far better than he would ever be.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have spoken to you or Ron like that. Snape just - he got to me a little and I didn't know how to handle it without making it out like it was your fault," it was a clumsy apology at best, but it seemed to satisfy Hermione who sat up straight and gave him a tender smile before she patted the couch cushion next to her.

"I forgive you, Harry, Ron might need a little more convincing but I think I understand, or well -" she surveyed Harry's face carefully, like she was still nervous to upset him and set him off, "I don't  _understand_ what you're going through, but I get why you were angry. You're used to handling everything on your own," She said this like it was the most sensible thing ever, and Harry supposed it was. He was used to doing everything on his own, taking matters into his own hands, he was reckless and arrogant, all the things that Snape had said...and he had deserved, "Here, this is everything we went over in class. And I put together a list of questions for you to answer in essay form for Professor Snape's homework assignment so it should be a little easier," she waited for him to take it and gave his hand a squeeze once he finally did.

"I - I owe you for this, Snape gave me three feet to turn in tomorrow night before detention," Harry muttered appreciatively in her direction, she winced sympathetically.

"Ron will forgive you as soon as he hears that. I think it's penance enough," Hermione teased with a wink before a long yawn had her pushing herself to her feet, "I'm going to turn in for the night and you should soon, too. I can help with the rest off your essay tomorrow, if you'd like. Good night, Harry."

He swallowed thickly as Hermione smiled warmly one last time and turned away to head up the steps to the girls dormitory.

Harry looked down at the notes in his hand and flicked through them absentmindedly, his mouth dropping at the detail Hermione had given him, she'd even gone through and marked paragraphs that held key information for the essay she'd basically outlined for him. He didn't deserve any of this, but as an insatiable,  _pathetic_ child, he used them anyway and spent the entire night working on Snape's assignments.

" -arry, Harry?  _Harry_!" Ron shouted, not unkindly, and shook him awake, Harry started and jumped up after what could have only been a half hour of sleep, and spilled his inkpot everywhere, but Ron managed to yank his parchment up and out of the way while it was still salvageable, "That would have been a killer, mate, 'Mione told me you had three feet to get done, we let you sleep through breakfast but she grabbed a few things to eat for you before class...Honestly, mate, Snape looked murderous today when you weren't in the Great Hall and I, well, I just wanted to say everything's all good, between us, I mean. I wasn't really angry with you, I just didn't understand why you were so angry with  _us._ But I do now, Snape must have been a right prick."

Harry couldn't help but snort and grin in Ron's direction, "You've no idea, shouldn't we get going to...?" Harry frowned and trailed off, realizing then that he had no ruddy clue what class he had.

"Herbology, mate, then potions. Double defense after lunch," Ron reminded him with a shake of his head and clapped him on the back, "You're a right tosser sometimes, Potter, I swear."

The grin that followed was enough to get Harry to laugh along before he ran to change his robes and cast a few charms to keep himself from looking like the absolute mess that he was.

* * *

A/N: Harry deserves one decently ended chapter, no? Unfortunately, the next one won't end as decent...

 


	11. In Which Malfoy Becomes Privvy to Private Information

**Disclaimer** : I don't own the character or the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

Warnings in this chapter for cursing and the usual bits about abuse. Perhaps triggering.

Happy reading!

* * *

Harry had managed to make it through the entire day of classes, despite the fact that he would have to face Snape at the end of his day - not only in class, but in detention with him as well. After how their last... _meeting_ had gone, if you could call it that, he was dreading it with every fiber of his being, but was doing his best  _not_ to let it get to him in a way that would have Ron and Hermione sharing sidelong glances. The last thing he needed was either of his friends noticing that something was off,  _horribly_ off, if Harry was being honest with himself.

How could he face Snape after what had been said? What  _he'd_ said to his Potions Master (or was he the Defense Master, now?), it had been wrong. Low, cruel, sneaky, deceptive - whatever Snape wanted to throw at him for it, he deserved infinitely.

It wasn't until after lunch that the panic really began to set in. Ron and Hermione were standing from the table then, reminding Harry that they had planned at breakfast to get to Defense early and find a seat in the middle where Harry was less likely to be seen and attacked the way it usually went in potions. Only, Harry didn't plan on getting lost in the crowd. Instead, he would sit front and center, where he could face Snape's brutality on his own, he  _deserved_ it, after all. He and Snape both knew that.

Ron and Hermione both tried to flank him on either side, but he brushed them off and nodded to the table behind him, like he could be some kind of buffer in case Snape tried to take Harry's  _insolence_ out on his best friends. It would be easier now, if he could pretend he was making himself vulnerable for their sake when, in reality, he was doing this because he deserved it. He wanted to hear what Snape would throw at him today, it wouldn't be the same sort of pain, but it would hurt no less.

Class filed in quickly, the lucky ones were agape to see that the trio had not taken their usual seats and instead, worked around them.

Harry looked up from his hands only to see Draco Malfoy dropping carelessly into the seat beside him, Crabbe and Goyle were no where to be found - and Harry realized they must not have gotten the substantial OWL scores to take Snape's class. A funny sort of pride filled him then, everyone in his year that had been a part of Dumbledore's Army had made the required mark. At least he had done something right last year. Though, the death of Sirius could hardly compare to a meager brigand of naive puppies, as Snape had so coolly put it.

"How's your nose, Potter?" Malfoy spat with a smirk once he'd realized his presence had not entirely disarmed Harry like it should have.

"Just fine, Malfoy, how's yours?"

" _Mine_?"

"Yes,  _yours_? It looks a right side worse than it normally does."

Ron snickered behind him and Hermione could only raise her eyebrows and keep her head down to hide her grin. Harry vaguely pulled the memory of Hermione delivering a well-placed punch in third year and wished for a moment that Malfoy could see what he was thinking. It was his own mild revenge, of sorts, and it kept him distracted from whatever Malfoy was hissing at him until Snape entered the classroom in his usual robe-billowing and menacing omnipresence.

"We will be practicing non-verbal spell casting once again. And I _believe_ you will all partner with the person sitting beside you." Snape decided coolly upon letting his eyes fall over Harry and Draco. If Snape was surprised to see Harry was not only in class, but front and center, he gave no notion of it.

Harry followed suit and stood, just in time, as Snape vanished the tables and chairs with a quick flick of his wand, snorts of laughter and surprised  _oomphs_ echoed through the classroom among those who were not quite so lucky. Harry wouldn't fall for that again, standing under the control of Snape was not something he cared to relive.

"Third-year level offense  _only_ , anyone using anything but will lose their house fifty points, if you don't believe me, ask Potter, he lost Gryffindor house sixty points alone just yesterday." Ah, there it was, and the resounding groans of Gryffindor were not lost on his ears as he turned red and flashed them all an apologetic glance. _  
_

" _Sixty points_  in one day, Potter? That's got to be a record of pure stupidity, even for you," Malfoy quipped with a smirk before they moved to stand opposite one another. Malfoy had flicked his wand (a curse muttered under his breath) in Harry's direction before Harry even had the chance to turn around properly, and he had shouted  _protego_ quickly without a second thought.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, we are practicing  _non-verbal_ spellwork today, or have you already replaced that memory with your usual pigheaded arrogance?" Harry pursed his lips and turned away from Snape's cold, blank eyes, not even an inkling of remorse. Harry didn't want remorse, that was good, if there was one person that would always treat him the same, one person that he could count on to make his life living hell, it was Snape.

And Malfoy, of course.

It was Harry's turn to hex Malfoy, of course, Harry would have loved nothing more than to knock the little-ferret flat on his arse, but with Snape watching, he merely put all his thought, all his  _focus_ into disarming Malfoy and thought desperately  _expelliarmus!_

Nothing happened.

Snape turned away with a smirk and began to pace the classroom, stared blankly at Hermione who was performing excellently, and awarded Pansy Parkinson five points for  _effort._

Effort. Right.

Harry tried to disarm Draco again, only this time he had his anger towards Snape to fuel him on and when he thought the disarming spell in his head with firm intent, this time...it  _worked._ Malfoy's wand flew into his outstretched hand with a satisfying catch to punctuate his efforts.

Malfoy looked  _pissed_  as the rest of the class (save for Slytherin, of course) broke into murmurs and tittered with laughter.

"Give me back my wand, Potter," he hissed menacingly.

"Come get it," Harry told him and held it with an outstretched arm. The first swipe Malfoy made for it, Harry pulled it away with a grin as Malfoy sneered.

"You emaciated, mudblood loving little  _freak,"_ Malfoy spat and lunged for it again, this time Harry let him have it and tried his hand again at non-verbal spell-casting, and, this time, Malfoy was reduced to uncontrollable laughter at the hands of Harry's spell while Harry looked on in pride.

At the very least, he could handle Defense Against the Dark Arts with Malfoy.

"How's your dad, Draco, is he enjoying Azkaban? Oh, that's funny, is it?" Harry egged him on, though he didn't expect Malfoy to lose his cool so quickly - Harry supposed it was because his mother wasn't around to stop him from strangling Harry like she'd been in Diagon Alley over the summer.

Malfoy abandoned his wand when he realized he couldn't get a spell to work while he continued to break up in laughter and lunged at Harry again, this time tackling him to the ground until he was able to get some leverage and aim a poor punch against Harry's jaw. They were a sight and a half, Malfoy broken up in laughter, all whilst doing his best to punch Harry who was squirming uncomfortable under the weight of Malfoy's legs, pinning him in a way that was all _too_ familiar. Malfoy's hands were at his throat next. Vaguely, Harry felt the painful memory of Vernon's sausage fingers wrapped so tight around his throat that welted imprints had lingered the next few days, and bruises for the days thereafter. In that moment, Malfoy  _was_ Vernon, Harry couldn't tell the difference between the two of them.

"Gerroff me - " Harry struggled to speak and tried to shove at Malfoy's chest, "Stop it,  _stop_ Uncle Vern-"

_BANG!_

Students had just begun to gather, but the only people that gave notice that they'd heard what Harry had said were Malfoy himself, and Snape, who had successfully broken up the fight, stopped Malfoy's incessant laughter, and dismissed the rest of the class in all but a few brief moments.

Once Malfoy was off of him, Harry rolled to his hands and knees, gasped a fresh breath of air and forced himself to his feet without looking at the platinum-blonde aggressor or his Professor.

"Weasley. Granger. When I said  _out_ did you not understand me?" Snape's voice was firm, but steady and commanding.

"Please, Professor, we just thought we'd wait for -"

"Mr. Potter is perfectly capable of escorting himself back to his dormitory. In any case, Mr. Potter has a detention to serve with me, and I believe we'll start just now, anyway. You are dismissed, do not make me tell you again." With an apologetic glance in Harry's direction, both Ron and Hermione left the room and Snape closed the door to the classroom with a bang to ward off any eavesdroppers. "One of you is going to explain  _what_ that was, or neither of you will be leaving at any point in the near future."

Harry couldn't have spoken, even if he wanted to. And he didn't. Want to, that it. He couldn't find the words to explain what had happened just then, couldn't figure out how he had, quite literally, been convinced that Malfoy was his Uncle, that Malfoy would take the abuse another step -

"Potter was antagonizing me, he...he mentioned Father, he - he took my wand!"

Harry stayed silent.

"If I remember correctly, Draco, Potter disarmed you."

Both Harry and Draco's jaws dropped accordingly then, since when had Snape ever put Malfoy's story straight, especially in Harry's favor?

"You are dismissed, Draco, Potter will be serving detention with me all night, as well as his remedial potions lessons."

Draco smirked, smug with the prospect of Harry spending an entire night at Snape's torturous hands. Malfoy turned for the door, but halfway there, he stopped and turned back to look at Harry with genuine curiosity, "Potter. Why did you call me that?  _Who_ is Uncle Vern?" Harry went entirely rigid and glared at Malfoy with such malice he felt he could had cast a spell without his hand then.

"I didn't," Harry lied easily, "You were laughing so hard you didn't hear me correctly."

"Oh? Then what  _did_  you say?" Malfoy hissed curiously, content on trapping Harry into something he couldn't get out of.

"Enough, Mr. Malfoy," Snape hissed dismissively once more and glared until Malfoy turned with a sneer and left, leaving Harry alone with Snape.


	12. In Which Angst Ridden Solitude is the Most Appropriate Dinner Guest

**Disclaimer:** The characters and world they are in belong to J.K Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for this story.

This story contains coarse language, abuse (mental, physical, and sexual). There will eventually be a teacher/student relationship (Snarry)-and yes, there is an age gap between them. Mild suicidal tendencies (or rather, thoughts and ideals) as well as very, very mild versions of self-harm. Just a reminder in case anyone forgot?

* * *

 

Harry refused to meet Snape's eyes, but that was nothing new as of late. This time was different. He knew the moment he met Snape's onyx eyes, hard and unwavering, he'd crumble in the worst of ways. How could he have been so _stupid_? Not to mention  _careless_ with his words - Malfoy, of all bloody people, should not have been able to pull that sort of reaction out of him. He'd gotten lost in it, utterly lost in the not-so-vague memories of Vernon pounding on him, and  _into_ him as well.

This summer had been the worst, thus far, and he still had yet another to live out. If he could manage to live through it at all, and he truly didn't know if he would.

Previous summers had always started and ended the same, he went into them, expecting the worst and went back to Hogwarts without being disappointed. Aches and pains followed him often throughout the first month of school. Nightmares were constant. Memories endless.

Snape had healed him before he'd gone to the Burrow, his  _pain_ in that respect, was gone. He had been determined not to let the rape break him, he had been constant in sealing himself off from Ron and Hermione enough so that they wouldn't even think to ask him the questions he didn't want to answer. And now, now he was back at Hogwarts, the one place that was supposed to be safe for him, the one place he could revert back to being the  _Hero_ he was prophesied to be and not the weak, pathetic mongrel of a  _child._

He was supposed to be able to leave it all behind when he got to school, memories would always be endless - but at least before this summer he had been able to swallow it deep enough that not even the sharpest of Voldemort's cuts could have drawn it forth. Voldemort, essentially, had been the reason all those years that he had been able to distract himself from the abuse. Only, this time, he couldn't shake the feeling of his Uncle's hands off of him, couldn't shake the feeling of his Uncle  _violating_ him the way he had-

" _Potter!_ " The yell came so sudden and sharp that Harry jumped, nearly right out of his skin, and his eyes were involuntarily drawn up to Snape's, "Must I write you an invitation before you heed my words and  _sit down?_ " Snape hissed, his patience clearly worn thin, as if that wasn't the first time he'd called Harry's name. Harry realized it must not have been, he had truly been lost in his thoughts, angry with himself for his pathetic stupidity -

 _And this, ladies and gentleman, your supposed savior..._ Harry thought bitterly to himself as he dropped into the nearest chair, consequently the furthest one from Snape at that moment.

If Snape picked up on Harry's discomfort, he made no mention of it and instead slid easily to brace his hands on either sides of the desk Harry was sat at, a desk that must have been re-summoned when he'd been lost in his reverie.

"And what,  _pray tell, Potter,_ was that despicable showing in my classroom?" Snape snarled in a way that had Harry immediately defensive.

"Why don't you ask  _Malfoy_ , he's the one who was strangling me, unless you turned a blind eye to that as well -"

"I saw everything. I  _see_ everything, Potter. Where you could have let the situation be won simply by maintaining Draco's wand, you decided to provoke him.  _Why?_ " Snape's words caught him off guard, and Harry was sure that they'd been doing that more often than was typical, but he said nothing about the lack of ferocity in them.

"He broke my nose on the train, I wanted revenge."

" _Liar,_ " Snape knocked his excuse off easily and Harry watched in awe as he managed to curl his lips in a snarl and keep them menacingly pursed all at the same time, "You wanted a fight. You were looking for one."

"I was not -"

"Save it for someone who can't see through you, Potter. I won't have you fighting like a muggle in my classroom, and if I ever so much as hear any combination of the words  _Lucius Malfoy, Azkaban,_ or  _Father_ in the same sentence, you will sorely regret it. Do not test me, Potter, nor Draco."

Harry stood to leave, then, as if he thought they were finished-

"If I remember correctly, Potter, you have a detention to serve."

"But sir, dinner -"

"You and I know very well that you don't plan on making it to dinner. Is that the plan, Chosen One? Starve yourself until someone comes along and holds your hand through it? I've got news for you, Potter, I certainly won't do it," Snape told him very clearly, leaving no room for any sort of argument, "That being said, the last thing I need is for you to be carried to the infirmary from my office. You will eat before we begin Occlumency, and you will eat to my satisfaction," Snape punctuated his words with a deadly precision that Harry found himself in awe of, or rather, he would have been in awe of it, if he wasn't the one on the receiving end.

Harry pursed his lips hard once he realized there was no way out of this without digging himself a deeper hole.

"No objections? My, my, isn't that a first for you," Snape trailed off intentionally and turned his back on Harry, pausing only to turn just slightly back over his shoulder with a curt gesture of his head. Harry hesitated until Snape started off again and entered his office. Harry went slowly, as slowly as he thought he would be able to get away with before Snape snapped at him in his usual fashion.

He dropped plainly into one of the chairs across from Snape at a small table set with plate, goblets, and cutlery enough for two. It was as if Snape had planned to hold this impromptu dinner well before he and Malfoy had gotten into their scuffle. It certainly wasn't going to be pleasant sitting this close to Snape knowing that each one of his moves was going to be surveyed carefully, whether or not he caught Snape in the act.

"Pumpkin juice or water?"

"What?" Harry blanched, startled at the mild words coming from Snape, of all people - why in the fuck did he keep doing that? Flipping his switch on and off at the drop of a hat?

" _Pump_ kin juice  _or_  water?" Snape enunciated very firmly, a clouded look on his face, like he couldn't believe what idiocy sat before him -

"Water. Please," Harry added hastily, as if to prove that he wasn't entirely in-eloquent. The Dursley's had been quite keen on beating his manners into him, at the very least and he supposed Snape was the person, if any, that he would have to show them to here at Hogwarts. Most other Professor's were easy to respect, but after Snape had verbally degraded Harry for five years? Harry found it more than a struggle to display what was so deeply ingrained (and scarred somewhere) into his skin.

As Snape sat, the table before them filled with what must have been a more manageable portion of the dinner being served in the Great Hall. For a minute, Harry wondered briefly how this worked. In the Kitchens there were tables set to mock the layout of the Great Hall so that the elves could simply set the food out and have it waiting to send up - this table, naturally, was no where near the kitchens...

"Something wrong, Potter?" Snape cut into his thoughts, unapologetic, mind you, and Harry looked up quickly to see Snape glaring at him and his empty plate in turn.

"No, I was just -" But Harry only shrugged his shoulders and reached for his water glass to swallow what Snape would, no doubt, see as pointless curiosity.

"Just? Just  _what_? Must we all always hold your hand through every mundane little thing, Potter? Do you not know how to speak your mind or make a harmless inquiry?" Snape sounded angry (when didn't he?) but there was something else there too, a sort of push in his tone, like he expected to be able to make Harry talk.

Whatever he was getting at worked.

"It's just - in the kitchens the House Elves prepare everything and set it out on tables so that it can be sent right up to the Great Hall. I don't suppose you cooked all of this yourself, so I was just curious as to how Dobby and the others would know to send food here as well. Of course, if you warned them beforehand, they would have known, but I would have heard them popping in and out unless there's a special table set aside for the brooding Potions Master when he chooses to take his meals in angst-ridden solitude?" Snape's snapping had pulled a cheeky sort of life out of Harry that he hadn't remember feeling, at least, he hadn't remember feeling it in a long time. Fuck the house points Snape would take away for it, it felt good to speak his mind. Or a cleaner version of it.

To his sheer surprise, he saw the faintest glimmer of a quirked eyebrow, a quirked eyebrow that might have held something like amusement if there had been a smile to go with it, but Snape never smiled, and Harry didn't expect he was about to start now, was he?

"Tell me, Potter, do you always wonder so deeply about such trivial matters? The food is here, in front of you, what ever is so important about how it got there?"

"I guess I'm not sure if you've poisoned it or not," Harry offered in a bored, hollow tone of voice, "You asked what I was going to say so I told you, if you didn't want to know, you shouldn't have asked,  _sir_. Next time I'll remember not to oblige you that."

"I did not say that I did not want to know, Mr. Potter. If you understood the subtleties of speech, you might have picked up on the fact that I was more curious as to whether or not you always analyze everything so carefully, and why. I though, perhaps, if I related such a serious question to something that was more relative to your... _underdeveloped_ mind, I would get an actual answer out of you that might help further you in Occlumency."

"Oh."

" _Oh,_ indeed," Snape muttered under his breath as he turned his attention to Harry's plate with a pointed glare. Harry got that message and scooped a bit of potatoes on his plate, a portion of sliced turkey, and vegetables as well. The tidings were all impossibly meager and Snape waited for Harry to take more, "That's inadequate, Potter."

"What's inadequate?" Harry wondered incredulously, looking down at himself as if he had done something wrong.

"Your dinner is nothing but a glorified snack, as well-balanced as it might appear. You will have to take more."

"But I'm not -"

" _Take_ more, Potter."

"If I eat more than this I'll be sick! I won't last through your bloody Occlumency lesson if I have a full stomach -" a larger part of him was worried about the sickness that would come from having to see Cedric in the graveyard, Sirius falling through the veil, his Uncle, his Uncle, his  _disgusting_ Uncle. If he ate too much just yet, the things Snape would pull into his conscious mind would be too sickening to take.

It was frustrating, this wasn't his choice-he'd put on a bit of weight at the Burrow, and yet, still, here he was-underweight and picking at food like a pathetic little rabbit. Or worse - like  _Scabbers,_ had been. Peter Pettigrew, looking for scraps in disguise - that thought in itself was enough to make him nauseous. Wormtail was out there,  _alive_ (as fleeting and begging as his existence might seem) Wormtail was alive and Sirius was dead.

"Eat then, Potter," Severus uttered lowly and managed to give up his anger for the briefest of moments, once he caught the look on Potter's face. Severus watched the boy intently until he brought a meager forkful to his mouth. The way Potter at looked like he was suffering something  _painful,_  and Severus forced himself to avert his eyes elsewhere, so as not to make the brat even more uncomfortable.

It was a few minutes before he realized that Potter had stopped eating again, "If you won't eat, Potter, we'll talk. I have quite a few things to discuss with you..." at that, Harry shoved another forkful into his mouth and Severus nodded curtly, "That is what I thought."

They continued in silence, a silence that Severus was content to remain enamored with, seeing as it was far more enjoyable to eat his meal in peace without Potter arguing his every bloody word or acting like he was going to hex him at a moments notice. Harry finished just after himself, but Snape was content to let the boy take his time, if only because he was worried for the cleanliness of his throw rug, should Potter's hasty eating leave him making sick all over the ruddy floor - the boy did have a point.

"Are we going to start now?" Harry asked finally, after what seemed like a length of intense silence. Had the boy been uncomfortable all that time? It was funny, Severus himself had hardly minded.

"We are," but before Severus could go on, Harry was pushing away from the table and began to pile a few of the empty dishes together, Snape raised one angular eyebrow at this, "For one thing, Mr. Potter, the House Elves will take care of the dishes left on the table. For  _another,_ where did you plan to wash them yourself?" Harry frowned and furrowed his eyebrows before he looked up from the plates to Snape, as if this were a trick question, "Moreover, are you a wizard or not?" The boys cheeks darkened a few shades crimson and he opened his mouth to apologize, Severus decided to beat him to it - and cut his stammering short, "I don't require an explanation, it was just a curious observation. I would not have you for dinner and expect you to clean my dishes, Potter. Furthermore, we won't be getting right into the actual act of occlusion just yet. The Headmaster believe it would be fundamentally important to discuss the rudimentary aspects of occlumens in depth."

This was not entirely true.

Severus had been under the impression that the Headmaster had done this with Potter last year when he had informed him that Harry would be receiving his private lessons. Apparently the Albus had believed that merely thrusting Potter into it firsthand would force him to adjust quicker under the pressure of exposing his mind to a professor he did not entirely trust.

The manipulation in itself was exceedingly unfair. And left Severus himself feeling mildly mislead.

Harry sat.

"Watch," Severus muttered and tapped the table twice with his wand. For a moment, nothing happened, until finally, the dishes vanished, no doubt sent down to be taken care of by the House Elves. Harry looked more confused by Snape's demonstration. Severus decided to continue without further ado, "I was told by...a colleague of mine that you were able to resist the Dark Lord's  _Imperius_  curse during the Triwizard Tournament incident," Harry nodded and Snape continued, "Occlumency is much like that.  _Resistance_ is key. I had originally told you to  _clear your mind_ when we began lessons a year prior, I am now under the impression that that was the wrong route to take."

Harry raised his head casually, like he was trying not to be as intrigued as Snape could see he was. Those eyes, Lily's green eyes - they had always been far more expressive than they had a right to be and often were his undoing.

"Instead of clearing your mind, I am telling you now to fill your mind with only one thought, one emotion, perhaps even one memory that involves  _both._ That way, when I use Legilimency, I will be met first and foremost with  _that._ The further I take my assaults, the more you will concentrate on showing me only what you are occupying your mind with."

"So, sort of like casting a patronous, right? If I focus on something happy -"

"Correct."

Harry nodded, and Snape was sure that meant the boy understood, but then he began worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Problem, Potter?"

"It's just - I...no."

"What is it? If you have a question, ask. It will clear things up and waste less of my time."

"I don't know if I have a memory that evokes both a thought and emotion similar enough to be the only thing occupying my mind. If you play on the differences between the two, won't you be able to poke holes enough to see past what I'm showing you?"

Severus pursed his lips. The boy raised a good point, not that he planned on giving him the knowledge of that. He wasn't here to praise and coddle Potter. Only to teach him.

"Why do you enjoy riding a broomstick?"

"I - sir?"

"You heard me."

"I...well, there's nothing like it, really. It's the only time that I feel - no, nevermind, that's stupid," Harry furrowed his brows again and shook his head before he fixated idly on the hands in his lap.

Snape wanted to shake him out of it, since when had he become so bloody introverted? He'd never had a problem speaking out of turn in his classroom - why the sudden change? Of course, if Severus truly thought about it...it made sense. Snape knew more about Harry now than anyone did, at least in regards to his darkest secrets..."Tell me, Mr. Potter."  _There,_ _cordiality._

"I feel free. Nothing can touch me when I'm in the air, it's the only thing I'm good at and it comes naturally. I'm not afraid when I'm flying, but it's a rush, too. At any moment I could fall, but I won't, I rarely ever do. Even the idea of falling isn't frightening, it's...it's like a  _rush._ No one can take it from me."

"So, freedom, perhaps. Feeling free is an emotion, is it not? It's a thought, an  _idea._ Something you crave. And flying can be a memory. I'm sure you have a surplus of flying memories to bore me with."

"You don't like to fly?"

Severus froze, not noticeably to Harry, but enough that he himself noticed it. Had Potter just asked him something about himself?

"I used to."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, perhaps like he was going to ask another question, but Snape merely pushed back from the table and acted as though he hadn't seen Potter begin to say something more.

"It's time to begin, Potter."

 


	13. In Which Snape Realizes Potter Can Handle Himself...Sort of

Disclaimer: I don't own the character, or the world. That belongs to J.K Rowling!

The usual warnings apply, and as for those of you who are curious as to when Snape and Harry will begin their illustrious relationship...let's just say we have a bit of time before then? :P

Happy reading!

* * *

Harry stood as Snape did and took a few paces back - for whatever reason, it seemed to help relax him when he could put more distance between himself and the Potions Master. Then again, it was only natural that it would. The only times Snape ever got close to him were the times when he chose to lash out with either a punishment, a cruel remark, a sneer - the list was virtually endless.

"I will give you a moment to prepare yourself. Concentrate, don't focus on clearing your mind, I believe that is where we went wrong last year. You clearing your mind seems only to bring everything you'd rather I didn't see to the foreground-instead, show me something you want me to see," Snape instructed casually and waited until Harry nodded and signaled that he was ready. Snape watched the boy swallow thickly around what must have been a sizable lump in his throat, " _Legilimens!"_ He had given Potter plenty of time.

And clearly, it wasn't enough.

There had been some resistance, Snape had seen that immediately. The first memory he was shown was Harry's first time on a broomstick, and consequently the same incident that had led to him becoming Gryffindor's youngest seeker. There was an immense joy in it, Snape could feel it-but he could also feel its purpose, he could feel the thickness of memories behind it and it was all too easy for him to lunge on the first flicker. The memory he pulled to mind was not one he would have wished to see, it was not one he would have chose to make Potter relive either, but he supposed it might be less painful than the memories that were more fresh in Potter's mind.

As Sirius Black fell through the veil and Harry started screaming for him, Snape let the memory go, only to realize that Harry looked entirely unfazed.

"Why did you stop? I could have gotten it back-"

"Impossible. Your shield was weak to begin with and I don't believe it's beneficial to pull you through your worst memories-"

"That's not my worst memory. And don't act like you  _care_. You  _hated_ Sirius, you'd relive that moment every chance you got. You didn't get to  _see_ it, did you? You only heard about it second hand-"

"Silence, Potter, or I'll take points for your insolence."

Harry was quiet then, only because he'd already lost Gryffindor so many points it looked like their chance at the cup this year was entirely lost.

"Now, again. And focus less on hiding the rest of your memories, and more on the memory itself."

Harry nodded reluctantly, he had to admit-it made more sense to him when Snape was actually  _teaching_ it to him, and not repeatedly attacking his mind without any sort of preparation. He got it now, and he wasn't so good at it, but at least he understood the concept. He couldn't clear his mind, that was impossible, but if he could just  _protect_ it..."Wait-" Harry started, only after realizing he wasn't concentrating on any memory at all, but was processing things on a level slower than he was sure Snape would have liked. _  
_

"The Dark Lord will not wait for you to gather yourself..." But Snape waited all the same, an unpleasant expression on his face, one eyebrow arched coolly, impatiently- "Have you sufficiently-"

Harry nodded, his mind full of flying, full of quidditch matches, and the elation that came with all of it-

" _Legilimens!"_

Harry forced those memories on Snape as hard as he could, he thought of freedom, and kept his mind focused only on that. He didn't think about freedom in regards to breaking away from Privet Drive at the end of every summer, he didn't let thoughts of his Uncle seep into the memories of flying he was trying his hardest to portray. Flying was the only thing on his mind, the only thing  _in_ his mind apart from Snape.

He managed to keep on his feet though all of it, he didn't feel defeated or weakened once Snape released his mind, perhaps there was a lingering exhaustion, but his success was enough to have him energized enough to declare he wanted to try again.

"Hold a moment, Potter. Too much of one trick won't always work, soon enough I'll be able to work around this, the idea is to have an onslaught of useful thoughts that the Dark Lord won't use against you," Snape explained casually, and Harry saw that he was leaning casually back against his desk with his arms crossed in front of him. Harry mulled this over for a moment, and nodded.

"Professor- I understand why I have to keep Volde-You-Know-Who out of my mind, but how is that going to be enough for me to... _defeat_ him?"

"You are only sixteen, Potter, you aren't expected to defeat him so soon, there will be time, there will be training-"

"I faced him when I was eleven, a basilisk when I was twelve. I had to face him when I was fourteen and...and last year, too. At the rate we're going I'll be seeing him again soon. He's not going to wait around, I can feel it, I can tell when he's planning something or...excited about something-"

"I can assure you, Potter, the Dark Lord does not get  _excited_ about things-"

"You know what I mean."

Snape hesitated a moment before he nodded, slowly, and watched Harry carefully.

"Professor Dumbledore is busy figuring things out, I know-I don't need him to drop everything for me...but I just don't  _know_ enough. Dumbledore's Army last year was...it was like  _child's play._ I know it won't be like that out in the real world and I just-"

"Are you coming to a potential point, Mr. Potter?"

"Wouldyouteachme?"

"Would I,  _what_?" Snape repeated and stood.

"I-you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher now...and you know him...you know what he can do, and instead of just learning Occlumency-"

"Do you think I have the time to set aside extra lessons for your leisure?"

"It's not for my leisure, none of this is for my  _leisure_ , do you think I would choose this, if I had the choice? I can't fucking  _stand_ this, people judging me by the scar on my forehead, people praising me for what I've done-I haven't done _anything._  It's all been _luck_  and far better wizards than I have fallen in his wake, I'm not an extraordinary wizard-" Harry was only just getting started and Snape could see that, he could see Potter falling into a panic and he had to stop it before it sabotaged their efforts thus far.

"On that, we can agree," Snape intoned dryly.

Harry scoffed and turned away, "Forget it then, it was a stupid idea, of course you wouldn't want to help  _me,_ of all people, not when you look at me and see my father, right? Why would you want to help someone you hate on premise?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and let his composure drop for the brief moment where Potter had turned away from him. On the one hand, he was stretched as thin as ever. Between Dumbledore, Potter, the Dark Lord, and teaching-he didn't have the time to add dueling lessons and teaching the components of vastly complex spells to Potter would only add a more grueling process to his shoulders. On the other hand, Potter was taking this seriously. Potter was virtually embracing the fact that he was no where near ready to defeat the Dark Lord...and he was asking for  _help._ He was asking for  _something,_ and that in itself was a step Snape had not been prepared to see.

Since he'd seen what Potter had...suffered through this summer and no doubt the ones prior to it, as well, Potter had essentially been closed off to the rest of the world. He hadn't seen him at meals, but he had seen his lackeys in a worried frenzy over him. The Headmaster himself had expressed a concern over Potter along with the rest of his teachers. Once exuberant and embracing of his education he now seemed  _put-out._ Or so Filius Flitwick, had put it.

Naturally, Snape had been content to brush it off the same way he was always compelled to. _Precious Saint Potter_ , getting his special treatment, but it wasn't special treatment, was it? He'd  _seen_ the cause, and Potter's withdrawal went far deeper than that.

"We will divide our time in Occlumency lessons, after I speak with the Headmaster of your concerns. I doubt he will have an issue with it."

"He doesn't seem to have an issue letting me go into everything  _blind,_ " Harry mumbled bitterly, but he had turned back to Snape then with a glimmer of something like hope on his face.

"You are still a child, the Headmaster has many reasons to withhold the information that he does. As, I am sure, you have reasons for withholding your own?"

Harry had opened his mouth to protest, he wasn't a child, not anymore, he hadn't been a child in a long time, but Snape's follow up had his lips shut tight. He wasn't going to get into that, not when he'd done so well keeping it  _away._ Harry sat back against a desk, mirroring Snape, he wasn't going to have this conversation, but after a long stretch of silence, Snape seemed to have other plans.

"At some point, Potter, you and the Headmaster must have a conversation. It cannot be put off forever. Knowing what I know-I cannot let you return to your Aunt and Uncle's next summer."

 _"_ You don't know as much as you think you do."

"I know  _enough_."

"But you  _don't,_ besides, I'm going to have to go back. The  _blood protection_ is far too valuable. You think I haven't tried to stay with Ron and Hermione before? With Sirius-" Harry cleared his throat to cover the break he knew would sneak into his voice if he carried on, "I can handle myself."

It was only one more summer, and only  _if_  he made it through this year.

* * *

As Potter left their lesson that night, Severus was suddenly struck with  _agreement._

Harry Potter could handle himself.

But he'd made a promise to the memory of  _Lily,_ and he saw more of her in Potter than he ever had before. While he still bore that strikingly irritating resemblance to his father, Severus could not, and would not let Harry return to his Aunt and Uncles next summer. There would be no excuse for him if he let Potter's abuse continue now that he  _knew_  about it. Lily would have never forgiven him, and he doubted he would ever forgive himself.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** The characters and everything else awesome is J.K Rowling's, I'm just twisting it around a bit.

Warning for language and very very mild allusions to the abuse Harry suffered, you know, the usual.

Happy reading!

* * *

 

Harry Potter was  _exhausted._

Everyone could see it.

But Severus was the only one who truly understood  _why._

He wouldn't say he was worried about it, Potter could take more than he had ever given the boy credit for. The past fortnight had proved that. They had made some progress with Occlumency. Naturally, some was a term Severus used rarely in regards to the boy, and it had given the boy some sort of hope when Harry had asked him the night before if he was improving, and Severus had answered with:  _"You've made some progress,"_ Harry's face had lit up substantially.

It was unsettling for him to see such a meager compliment pull the need from Harry to prove himself further.

He had seen snippets of the boys home life, ones that delved into deeper and darker parts than he had ever truly imagined - Severus's lacking version of praise was the closest thing Harry had ever gotten to praise  _before._

He had been so used to his preconceived notions of the name  _Potter,_ that he hadn't had the capacity to see the parts of Lily that lay behind them. The fact that he was Albus's  _favorite,_ and the Wizarding World's  _Golden Boy_ had been no help to Harry's case. He had taken to thinking of him as  _Harry_  privately - Albus, in all his archetypal,  _Wise Old Man_ glory had suggested it. He hadn't been planning on actually trying it - and he certainly wasn't going to call Harry,  _Harry_ to his face - but thinking of Potter as  _Harry_ had helped Serverus form the separation in his head. It helped him to answer his questions without a  _sneer_ and it seemed to help Harry feel more comfortable around him, too. Severus found he often couldn't stop rolling the idea of using it aloud over his tongue, he was certainly thinking on it enough.

Furthermore, Severus had been so sure that Harry had been spoiled relentlessly by his relatives, not to mention doted on by every bloody Professor in the school, the rest of the Wizarding World, and his unguided brigand of followers, _so certain_ that Harry would be used to his compliment-especially  _his_ compliment, because a Snape compliment was hardly giving at all- but he  _hadn't_ been used to it. It had lit something like purpose under him again, and he'd gone into the lesson that night with a drive he had never known anyone to have.

Apart from the Dark Lord.

Severus had been struck with the realization the night that Harry had asked him for his help. Severus had essentially agreed to train him anything that would make him a formidable opponent, or as close as he could get, with the condition that he receive the Headmaster's permission, and it had been something that the Headmaster had said to him that made him realize the desperation in Harry's efforts. The dark Lord was beginning to get desperate too.

He felt it through his mark each time the Dark Lord summoned him and each time his anger when he wasn't able to get away, or would use that excuse (within reason). He felt it in the room as the Dark Lord sat back coolly at the head of the table and watched his  _most loyal_ pay homage to him, to all his power, all the glory he would reap-

-And he could feel it when the Dark Lord turned his wand on one of them because he couldn't stand the  _lying_. The Dark Lord was growing impatient, desperate, he wanted an edge, he wanted his immortality untouched by the meddling old man and his arch rival.  _A mere boy that had thwarted him more times than he should have been able to._

The Dark Lord was desperate to kill Harry Potter, to rid the world of Albus Dumbledore - and he no step closer with the rate Draco was going on the latter, and as Severus himself had a hand in keeping Harry alive, his desperation was growing thick and tangible.

It was another reason the exhaustion in Harry was so obvious. The Dark Lord had been restless, and more than once during his nightly probings of Harry's mind, Severus had stumbled briefly through nightmares and memories of Weasley watching him from his own four poster as he jumped out of bed and threw open a window for fresh air before he let himself be drawn in too deeply to the Dark Lord's mind.

Apparently the boy had cast a silencing charm, but Weasley had seen him thrashing anyway.  _Clever way to hide,_ Severus had had to admit to himself when he had addressed it with Harry, but there were easier ways to deal with night terrors.

Severus had once had his fair share of those. Dreamless Sleep had taken care of that for good a long time ago. He had offered to supply Harry with a night of Dreamless Sleep to see if it might help, but Harry had been intent on clearing his mind and blocking things out when he was at his most vulnerable, and Severus was impressed, but not surprised of the selflessness.

_Ever the martyr, Mr. Potter,_  he had said, but instead of growing defensive, Harry had  _laughed_ , and Severus had never heard a better sound before. It had reached his core, it was sharp and throaty, all at once - it reminded him of Lily in different octaves, but it was more refreshing after having watched the hollow, mirthless laughter Harry had forced these past two weeks at lunch and the occasional breakfast if he had been able to rouse himself from sleep (he had been taking most of his dinner's in Severus's office before they moved their lessons to the Defense classroom where no one would be like to search them out after dinner was finished.

When Harry lingered through his goodbyes with Weasley and Granger just outside the door, Severus found himself lingering near the door as well to catch their words, all whilst looking incredibly enraptured (and not in a pleasant way) by a length of parchment on the nearest desk to him - Longbottom's Essay would suffice as a good cover should it be necessary.

" -git's been grinding you to the grain, Harry, and the team's been worried our first match is going to be shit because we haven't had a decent practice yet with you. You're supposed to be our captain, and you've hardly had time for the team. They're all worried we'll need a back-up seeker in case you pass out on your bloody broom! Do you hear me? Merlin, are you even listening to me, Harry? Blimey, 'Mione, it's like talking to a fucking wall, innit? He's doesn't care about  _anything_ \- something's happened to him, and I swear if I find out it's that greasy git - "

"Ron!" Miss Granger interjected, and Snape listened carefully - the girl, at least, was smart enough to keep her voice down, "His hair isn't greasy anymore now that he's not bent over cauldron's all day-"

"That's really not the point, Hermione-"

"Well, you don't have to be so rude, isn't it  _obvious_  what's really going on?"

_Oh,_ obvious _, was it?_

The silence was enough to egg her on, and Snape had yet to hear a word from Harry, "Professor Snape is clearly helping Harry with Occlumency again, this isn't  _detention_  anymore, is it, Harry?" The way she questioned left no room for any answer but the one that Harry wordlessly must have given her, "I thought so."

"Who cares if he's helping Harry with Occlumency - Harry hasn't slept in days, and we're going to be crushed in the first match because of it!"

" _Ronald!_ "

"Whatever, I'm going to dinner. Are you coming, Hermione?"

"In a minute."

There was a beat of silence.

"Fine."

Severus stepped closer, without the loudmouthed redhead around, it seemed Harry and Granger were easily able to keep their voices quiet and level without the influence of Weasley's ranting.

"You know he's worried about you, Harry, don't you? He's just using quidditch as an excuse-"

"And he really wants to win."

"Well, yes, I expect he would, but that's not the point, Harry. Maybe you could just...talk to Professor Snape about one night off so you can get some real sleep. Ron's told me about the nightmares. He said they're happening more than ever, I-I can start brewing you Dreamless sleep again-"

"I've told you, Hermione, it doesn't work anymore- but thanks. I'll see if I can get a night off."

There was another pause in which Severus imagined the look on Granger's face, something sad and laced with concern, but naively convinced by Harry's hollow words.

"Promise? We just miss you, Harry, I don't know what's going on with you anymore."

"I promise. I'm just exhausted, you know? I've been making some real progress with Occlumency, it's draining but it'll be worth it in the end. I've got to do this-"

"You don't have to do it all  _alone_ , though, Harry," Hermione insisted quietly, and just after that, she was gone, Harry was re-entering the classroom, and Severus was opening his office door after having glided quickly to the front of the classroom and up the steps that led to a heavy oak door, guarded by a password that very few people had the pleasure of knowing.

Harry walked slowly into Professor Snape's office, he was exhausted, truly. He'd fallen asleep throughout class all day, he'd missed an assignment in Transfiguration as well as Charms.

Was it really Saturday again, so soon?

The lack of sleep had him losing track of time, his nights were filled less with visions of Voldemort, as he had been able to lead Snape to believe, and more filled with his  _Uncle,_  which he had managed to hide with seemingly successful. If Snape knew that Harry was tampering with his memories to protect his secrets, he gave no notion of it and that led Harry to believe his progress had markedly increased.

He and Snape had tampered with the idea of implanting memories, the way the Dark Lord had done to lure him out of the castle last year (they broached nowhere near the subject of Sirius, and both of them were incredibly content with that.) Snape hadn't known he was going to try it, Harry had played it off as another one of his " _deeply"_ analytic thoughts (as Snape so often commented with a sarcasm that was beginning to grown on him), and the need to be informed about everything so he didn't fuck up anything. The next night, however, Harry had tried it to modify the course of his nightmares so that Snape wouldn't see what was truly troubling him at night.

It was easier to blame it on Voldemort when his scar was hurting just as much as he knew Snape's Dark Mark was, it was the nightmares that were becoming unbearable.

As they ate, Harry was comfortable to sit in the silence that stretched between them. The portraits in the background kept up a very murmured chatter that distracted them from the tiny tings and tangs of their cutlery, or rather, Snape's cutlery, since Harry had hardly touched his food. He was comfortable because he kept nodding off, and the few seconds of sleep were so welcome he embraced each lurch of his head until Snape pulled him out of it, once and for all.

"If you are too tired to eat, Potter, you are too tired to train."

"I'm not-"

"You nearly made a pillow of your mashed potatoes just a moment ago. I believe we can bypass our lessons tonight-"

"I  _knew_ it! I knew you were listening, I could  _feel_ it - your presence was so bloody obvious and I just ignored it-I don't need to be coddled!"

"I assure you, Potter, I have no intentions to  _coddle_ you. Your sidekicks seem to believe you require  _sleep,_ and I believe I understand how they could tell."

Harry snorted and slumped back in his chair, "Ron just doesn't want me to fuck up out first match - if I choke and lose it to Slytherin, no offense, but he'll kill me, they all will -"

"You do realize that the Gryffindor quidditch team, like all quidditch teams, is made up of  _seven_ players, and not just yourself?" It was so like him to believe he had to  _carry_ them. Harry sighed and shook his head, like Snape just didn't get it, and Snape didn't think he did either.

"You have been lying to me. I was led to believe your nightmares were infrequent, we discussed them, Potter. You denied Dreamless sleep because you swore you wanted to work on your Occlumency and the nightmares are  _more than ever_?" Harry could see Snape had no qualms about eavesdropping on his conversation, so he shrank back dejectedly into his chair. "Do you realize how irresponsible that is? The more nightmares you have, the more susceptible you are- _are you even listening to me_ _, boy?"_

_Boy._

The word hissed from Snape's lips was so familiar and so  _conditioned_ into him that Harry flinched and brought his attention firmly back to Snape though his emotional distance was palpable between them.

"Don't call me that," they tumbled so quickly and quietly from Harry's lips that Snape was almost sure he'd imagined them.

"Don't call you what you are? If you don't want to be called  _boy_ you should try and act less like one! Responsibility and maturity, discipline and effort are going to be key to in your training, and you have a distinct disregard for  _both_  that will get you killed much like your irresponsible Godfather!"

"Don't say a word against Sirius-don't talk about him, you don't have a right-"

" _I_ don't have a right?  _I_ who alerted the Order, who told Sirius to  _stay behind_ on Dumbledore's  _very_ orders? I have as much right as anyone, he disobeyed Dumbledore, he wouldn't listen to  _me_ because of who  _I_ am, and I'm the one with the grudge? He got himself killed because he lacked all the things you are mutilating because you'd rather take your pain and suffer it in silence? You have  _nightmares,_ Potter, and there is nothing wrong with the minimal use of an aid to keep you from falling off of the deep end!"

Harry's rage had stopped short as soon as Snape had begun to goad him about his  _pain._ It was an observation that hit too close to home, and Harry would rather swallow his tongue than give himself away.

"You will eat, we will practice Occlumency, and you will take a vial of Dreamless sleep before you leave. There will be no spellwork tonight."

Leave it to Snape to take the part he  _enjoyed_ out of it, no? Harry resisted the urge to insist that the Dreamless Sleep wouldn't work, a part of him was hopeful that it would, that maybe Hermione's attempt at it last year hadn't been strong enough, perhaps Snape could brew him something better-the man must have some sort of nightmares after meetings with Voldemort...

"Eat, Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

 


	15. In Which Snape Encourages Harry to Confide in His Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, and neither is their world-you can thank J.K Rowling for that amazingness!
> 
> Let me know what you think, what you are expecting will come, and any ideas you might have. I really love hearing from you all.
> 
> Usual warnings apply to this chapter. (Language, abuse, etc.)
> 
> Happy reading!

_Harry was pinned under Vernon, he was writhing, struggling to get away and he couldn't, something was closing around his throat, he couldn't breathe-_

"-arry,  _Harry!_ "

He came to on his hands and knees in the Defense classroom, panting as he tried desperately to catch his breath. It had been one of his nightmares, but all the nightmares were memories in and of themselves. Snape was hovering near him but seemed hesitant to get closer, and for that Harry was grateful. He couldn't be touched right now--least of all by Snape, who was looking at him curiously enough to make him feel sick.

"You are too exhausted for this."

Snape didn't leave any room there for him to question it, and instead conjured a chair for Harry to sit in. The kindness was cold, but not unwelcome. Not that Harry would admit to it. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to feel gratified in his backhanded gestures.

"Next time, if you're unable to put forth a substantial effort, tell me rather than waste my time-"

"Can I have a  _minute,_ Professor, to just be a fucking human?"

Snape raised his eyebrow coolly at Harry's language but made no comment on it, "If you must, Potter. And mind your language," it must have been the hundredth time that he had had to remind Harry to keep his profanities out of the classroom. 

"Potter, again? Not Harry?" There was a smirk on Harry's face, but Snape didn't address it. He too conjured himself a chair and sat. Harry had gotten used to seeing Snape on this level, but there was still a degree of strangeness that came with seeing the man seated. He was far more used to the threatening, standing poses Snape had always displayed before, save for meals. And even then, Severus was up on the dais, looking down at him. More than once since their lessons had started, he had looked up at Snape, only to meet his dark eyes. Of course, the shock of it always caused Harry to look away immediately in order to focus more on pushing his food around on his plate, otherwise untouched. During Potions as well as Defense class, Snape was always on his feet, engaged with the students work (or rather, tormenting them with it). Harry had to give it to him, though, he was a 'hands-on' Professor.

"I have a few questions I would like to ask you, Potter, while you attempt to be ' _human',_ " Snape made eye contact with him, and Harry found that he couldn't look away from their piercing depths, unlike usual. They weren't angry, as they often always were, instead, they were calm. Calm _ing_ , almost, "Your conversation with Miss Granger before - you said you could  _sense_ my magic, that I was close enough to be listening?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief before nodding, he had thought he was going to get something more  _difficult_  to deal with. More personal, as Snape had just had access to a dream (and memory) that made him entirely too vulnerable for comfort.

Snape made no comment but continued, "You also told Miss Granger that Dreamless Sleep doesn't work on you  _anymore_? Aside from the fact that brewing Dreamless Sleep without supervision is forbidden, I find it hard to believe that you had your dosage correct--"

"We did, at first. Hermione looked up everything she needed to, she'd been looking into it for ages. It was precise and perfect, she even tested it herself before she gave it to me. It worked the first few days but after a little while, it just...stopped," Harry mumbled with a shrug. He'd felt bad about that, all the work Hermione had put into trying to help him, and it had only kept the dream at bay for a few weeks.

"After a  _while?_ "

"Well, yeah, a few weeks-"

" _Insolent child_!" Snape hissed and jumped up so quickly from his chair that Harry did the same and moved around the backside of it to keep his distance from the suddenly enraged potions master, "You foolhardy, _overzealous Gryffindors!_ _"_   Snape ran a hand over his jaw and turned his back on Harry as if he were trying to keep his distance as well, "Dreamless Sleep is not something you use liberally! Certainly not  _nightly_! Any potions book would have stated that at the onset, tell me how Miss Granger forgot to relay you  _that-_ "

"Well, she didn't forget...I just thought...the dreams were getting so horrible--"

"You ineptitude is exceedingly astounding, Potter," Snape hissed and gave a shake of his head that was followed up by the turn of his whole body--Snape was facing Harry again, "You could have done yourself  _serious_ damage, in even the worst cases, Dreamless Sleep is only to be administered a maximum of three times a week, every  _other_ week. It's lingering properties are meant to build your subconscious while you sleep and the following week will adhere to the construction your mind is under-  _you were taking it nightly for weeks_?" Harry gave his shoulders a non-committal shrug, "Of course it doesn't work anymore, you lackwit-"

"I'm  _sorry_. I didn't  _know,_ I just wanted the dreams to stop, Professor, surely  _you_ understand, you have to deal with Vol- _You-Know-Who_  regularly! That doesn't give you malicious nightmares? That doesn't make you want to drink an entire cauldron full of Dreamless Sleep?" Harry finished expectantly, though he couldn't truly expect Professor Snape to divulge his own nightmares.

"Tell me you didn't-"

"No, I  _didn't-_  I'm not that much of a  _lackwit_ , _"_ and here, Snape muttered something Harry didn't quite catch, but was sure he could guess what it was, "I sure as hell wanted to, though, even  _you_ can understand that."

"Even  _I_? _"_ Snape mocked curiosity, but he knew what Harry was getting at.

"You might as well be a solid block of ice, the amount of emotion you show-"

"Reading my emotions, Potter?"

" _No-"_

"Enough. You will not take Dreamless Sleep from anyone but myself, and you will take it  _appropriately_ under my watch," Snape instructed swiftly, and his arms were crossed over his chest as Potter swayed almost imperceptibly--except Snape caught the movement easily and flicked his wand so that Potter's chair would move to seat him of its own accord, "During your conversation-"

"You  _seriously_ need a lesson on privacy--"

"Need I remind you-"

Harry knew where this would go, if he let Snape finish that sentence. The  _Pensieve_ , how could he forget? Snape had all but torn him to pieces and sent him from the room in a matchbox. " _No,_ there's no need, I remember very well and I'm still sorry--"

Snape sneered at that but held his tongue, " _During_ your _conversation_ ," he repeated pointedly, as if daring Harry to interrupt again (he didn't), "-you told Miss Granger you were making  _a lot_ of progress with Occlumency, but I have only seen a little. Why would you lie?"

Harry hesitated a beat, if he told Snape the truth, he would know the reality of his nightmares, one had slipped through tonight, but that was only because he was nearly dead on his feet from exhaustion, "I-"

"You have lied to  _me_ , Potter?" Harry's mouth snapped shut as Snape intervened, "And, you have not told your friends the true nature of our meetings, essentially, you've lied to them as well. Are you ever honest with anyone?"

It wasn't a question he knew how to answer. It wasn't a question he wanted to answer, somewhere deep down, he knew the truth. He wasn't honest, he wasn't honest with anyone, with himself--

"That's a severely lonely place to put yourself, Potter, I would advise against it. Confide in your sidekicks, they'll get off your back if you  _include_ them," Snape told Harry, not  _gently,_ but there was a lack of maliciousness in his tone. It wasn't cold, but  _cool._  Not quite ice..."The memories you are covering up won't improve your Occlumency. It shows discipline, yes, but it does not help you to focus on masking your memories when you should be focusing on getting  _rid_ of them."

Harry snorted and shook his head, "So you just want me to let you into  _everything,_ then? I've finally learned how to protect something in my head, and you want to take it from me? As if--" he scoffed and waved a careless hand at Snape, like it might sway the conversation to an end.

"No, Potter, trust me. I don't want to take any of it, but you won't make decent progress unless you stop splitting your mind meaninglessly-- I am impartial to the things I see in your head, this is not my training, it's yours."

Harry pursed his lips and said nothing, he just simply turned his head to the side so that he wouldn't have to look at Snape standing in front of him anymore.

"You may go if you are finished sulking."

Harry frowned then and turned his gaze back on Snape, "Did you mean it, sir, when you said I could tell Ron and Hermione?"

Snape sighed, "I would not have said it if I didn't," he offered up listlessly and waved a hand to the door, "Be  _gone_ , Potter."

"But, sir, the potion-"

"I have changed my mind for tonight. Tomorrow I want fresh memories for you to practice with, and I want the truth of them, too."

Harry stood and turned to the door then, but Snape wasn't finished, "I don't care what nightmares plague you tonight, Harry, you need to deal with them so you can learn how to  _erase them_." And there was something in the way that Snape had said it--it didn't matter that he'd used his name. It didn't matter that he hadn't snarled the words at him, careless as to how they would fall, what matter is that Snape was looking at him in a way that Harry couldn't figure out, only the fact that it was a look he felt he could  _trust._

_Erase them_. Snape hadn't sounded like he was just referring to Harry's nightmares then, he was referring to  _all_ of it. All the things that Harry had suffered, because he  _did,_ in some way,  _realize_ that he had  _suffered_. It was far too easy for him to fall into a depression when he was at Privet Drive, it was all too easy for him to believe all the slurring Vernon did when he was drunk and laid into Harry,  _beat_ him like he was trying to beat the magic out of him. But at Hogwarts he was reminded of his purpose. That he  _had_ purpose, he had people who cared about him. People who must have cared about him, because most of them had after they thought Voldemort had already been killed.

They  _had_ to care about him for more reasons than it seemed his life was cut out to be.

"Potter? I've seen enough of you, now  _go-"_

"Thank you, Professor."

There was a beat of silence before Snape nodded his acknowledgement and closed the door behind his student with a flick of his wand.

"That looked like progress, Severus."

Severus turned slowly, he had felt the change in the room only moments ago, so he was not compelled to ask how much the Headmaster had heard. Most likely he had heard Potter's ever-so- _touching_ display of gratitude. Getting a thanks from Potter was about as tedious as making a bet with Minerva over the very same match Potter's red-headed lackey was concerned about.

_Ungrateful, tactless swine...at least Granger isn't entirely blind. I'll never gather how_ _Weasley hasn't managed to get himself picked off, what with the incomprehensible thickness of his skull-_

Had Severus not realized that he was devoting even one second more of his time thinking thoughts that had a lingering hint of Potter in them, he would have carried on about the ridiculousness that Weasley had displayed before, how Harry was lucky to have one friend that wasn't entirely  _daft_ , if however much a know-it-all she was.

"Progress, Albus? Surely, even the Chosen One is capable of uttering  _thanks_?" _  
_

"Don't spoil it, Severus, I was enjoying the thought of you and Harry setting aside your  _differences_. Give an old man what he wants," Severus could feel his eyes flash then, he knew what Albus was doing, trying to guilt him into disarming just enough to let him in-

"If you have come to remind me of my debt to  _you_ -"

"Don't be so callous, Severus, I merely came to ask how training was going."

"We're to meet tomorrow night, ask me then."

"I had wished to catch a few moments of your session."

Severus raised his eyebrows, there it was, then, the truth. Or part of it. Albus never revealed more than was necessary. He was calculating like that, but he did it for a reason, for the  _greater good,_ for a purpose better than any of them could imagine now because it was so far off. It was why Severus trusted him so completely.

That, and the fact that this man had  _saved him._

Albus always insisted he had only given Severus the chance to save himself, to save his soul from the corruption he was dragging it through. The moments those conversations came into play were rare, if they ever were, but the memories of them were enough to remind him that he owed it to Dumbledore  _not_ to hex him when he was being bloody infuriating.

"Was that so hard, Albus?"

Headmaster Dumbledore let out a chuckle and shook his head, his eyes twinkled over his half-moon spectacles, the silver stars on his deep plum robes seemed to twinkle with them.

"For Merlin's sake, Severus, you're a  _spy,_ don't make your overcompensation so obvious."

"You are  _infuriating-_ "

"It's not a crime to grow fond of the boy."

"I am most certainly  _not_ growing fond of Harry."

"Ah,"  _Harry,_ was it? Snape cursed the old man internally, though he was sure Dumbledore  _knew_  just what he was thinking, "I will see you tomorrow evening, Severus, give Harry the night off, Minerva's almost got Poppy on your case."

With that, the Headmaster turned and left, a swish of simple purple and he disappeared through a back door, the same one Severus knew he had come, though he rarely used it.

Severus let out a very frustrated huff.

The last thing he needed was Poppy on his case,  _again_.

 


	16. In Which Severus Sees Harry for Himself, and Not His Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!
> 
> Usual warnings for this chapter (in case you've forgotten: mentions/mild descriptions of abuse, coarse language, etc.)
> 
> Happy reading!

Harry had taken Snape's advice the same night that the man had given it to him, and, since then, things with Ron and Hermione had vastly improved, and these changes were overnight.

It hadn't happened immediately, there had been a lot of questions, an endless amount of apologizing on Harry's end, understanding and warmth had come from Hermione while Ron had been slightly colder. Harry hadn't blamed him for that. He had given details to Ron and Hermione that they had known were missing, but hadn't had a clue as to how to broach the subject with him when he was so quick to fly off the handle and withdraw himself even further. He hadn't divulged them all of what had happened to him that summer, just that it had been worse than most and Dumbledore had sent Snape to pick him up so he could explain their continuation of Occlumency for the coming year before he had been dropped off at the Weasley's.

He left out the bit about having asked for Snape's help, but he had told them both about the more advanced magic he had been practicing with Snape as well. It wasn't that he didn't trust them to know that he had asked for help, but he wanted them to think he had it under control himself, and that Snape was only going to help practice with him. He was supposed to be the Chosen One, if he was going to be seen in that light, he would push for it. He would fake the confidence, he would pretend to know what he was doing. He would lie, yet again, to his closest friends by far.

"More advanced magic, like...Dark Magic, or something?" Ron had wondered warily, like the thought of Dark Magic, Snape, and his best mate in the same general idea was too much to handle, and not in a way that could possibly end well. Harry had, admittedly, been warmed by the concern, though a part of him was wondering if Ron was just terrified of him, he saw the aftermath of Harry's nightmares, he had heard that day in St. Mungo's on the Extendable Ears about Harry having witnessed the attack of his father through the eyes of Nagini. Was he beginning to think Harry would crack under the pressure?

Hermione had snapped him out of his negative reverie, and he immediate berated himself for tainting what had been a really decent moment.

"Oh, of course Professor Snape won't be teaching Harry Dark Magic, Ron! Dumbledore would never allow it, and I don't think Harry would stand for it either, he wouldn't want to sink to Voldemort's level-" as usual, Ron gave a sort of shudder at the mention of Voldemort, to which Harry resisted the urge to comment. He'd gotten used to saying You-Know-Who around Snape when he managed to catch himself, and a part of him was beginning to more deeply understand why Professor Snape couldn't stand to hear the name, and why Ron still couldn't bear to say it, "-would you, Harry?"

"Hermione's got the right of it," and Harry had gone into an explanation then, briefly described the offensive spells that Severus had been teaching him, as well as far more powerful and effective defensive magic, he was practicing his wordless magic, they had gone over the basics and drilled them so deeply into his mind that he knew which spells would suit all situations. He had found himself running through the list of spells in his head during other classes, exploring different situations, and situations he'd already been in where he could have been more prepared with the spells he so readily had on hand now.

Hermione had been right in saying that Ron had just been worried about him, he had heard it in Ron's voice during his apology, and Harry had accepted his apology as easily as telling him that he had nothing to apologize for. He was sick of letting everyone wear his burdens. He had been neglecting quidditch, he had been neglecting his friends- Luna and Neville had apparently told Ginny that the rest of Dumbledore's Army still kept their coins on them and were waiting for another lesson.

He was vaguely reminded of Snape's jab about his mislead brigand of misfits, and promised himself he'd try and make time for another D.A meeting.

Professor Snape had given him Friday night off in order to get some of his schoolwork done and catch up on sleep. He would have two days of dreams to work on shielding from Snape, and so he had focused himself more on practicing his Occlumency before bed. It worked during the first few hours of his sleep, not that he could tell the difference while he was sleeping- but Ron had often woken up to see Harry thrashing about. He didn't want to show Snape his nightmares, not when he was doing well to shove aside memories of Vernon amongst the midst of everything else he was managing.

Speaking of managing, Harry had been managing his homework for the week all afternoon. His last class had been a study period, so he'd bid goodbye to Ron and Hermione after lunch, and lost himself in the library.

He had been halfway through his essay for Professor Slughorn (he'd already done his charms essay, thanks to Hermione's notes, and practiced minor transfigurations) when he realized that he had told Ron and Hermione he would meet them for dinner nearly half an hour ago.

Fuck.

The last thing he needed was them on his case for distancing himself so soon after having let them in. That would entirely defeat having told them in the first place, he didn't want to feel suffocated by everything, he wanted to feel balanced. He wrapped up his last sentence, rolled up his essay, and quickly shoved the rest of his things into his bag before he hurried to the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione were sitting in their usual spot, heads bent low, save for the occasional glance towards the door to see if he was about to walk through it. When he finally did, it was Hermione that had seen first, and if he knew Hermione as well as he thought he did, she had definitely stood on Ron's foot to get him to look inconspicuously.

When he sat down, neither of them let on if they were angry that he was late, or that he had been late at all.

"Did you get your work done?" Hermione asked gently. Harry met her eyes cautiously, as if he were suspicious of her words. The relief was immediate as soon as she cracked a smile and Ron let out a snort and rolled his eyes:

"'Coure 'e di'nt 'Mione," Ron started grossly around a mouthful of food and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him like she was ready to scold him for it and he swallowed before continuing, "He was probably just trying to get some peace and quiet from you badgering about all the work he's got to get done-"

"I'm just trying to-"

"I got most of it done, actually. I lost track of time, that's why I was late-"

Harry found himself distracted as Snape stood at the Staff table, exchanged a long look with the Headmaster, and went out a back a door near his seat on the dais.

"It's no problem, Harry, we understand, we aren't going to jump down your throat so much-" Ron started in quickly, and Hermione nodded in agreement. They seemed so intent on keeping him close, like they were accidentally worried about pushing him too much and pushing him away once and for all. He wanted to laugh, and he would have, if it wasn't so fucking painful to realize that he'd made them this worried about losing him. He needed to reassure them he wasn't going anywhere, not yet.

He still had a job to do, and it was only fueled by the realization that he had people like Ron and Hermione to fulfill the Prophecy for.

Harry piled a decent meal onto his plate, his dinner's with Snape had finally started to improve his appetite, it wasn't all that hard to eat when Snape was threatening him if he tried otherwise. Hogwarts had always gotten him back to himself again, this time, he would just have to work for it a little. And he was, working for it, the Occlumency was helping, strangely enough, and ever since Snape had reminded him that Occlumency was also useful against the Imperius curse, Harry had been devoted to it as with everything else.

They kept up idle chatter as they ate, and Harry found himself picking through his food more than he was actually eating it. He didn't mean to, but he just wasn't hungry-and he couldn't help but feel like something was off.

"Did you want to go flying for a bit after dinner, mate?" Ron wondered curiously, suddenly, and Harry was pulled out of his own thoughts to meet Ron's eyes for the briefest moment before he forced himself to look away. He felt unsettled, he was truly unsettled now. It wasn't anything to do with what Ron had said, this was something that felt like it was a part of him- there was dread in the pit of his stomach and he could barely nod his assent to Ron's invitation. Think of quidditch, he told himself, think of freedom...It was strange for him to feel this coming on, if he could just block it out as he and Snape had been working on...

"I'd kill to play a round of wizards chess, too, I'm feeling a bit rusty-" Harry had started, a pitiful attempt at trying to distract himself from the unease in the back of his mind but his efforts were beyond repair as a sharp stab of pain across his forehead unfocused him. The pain was one that seemed to stretch and grow until it seared through the rest of him without any sense of stopping. He reached for it with one hand to try and stave off the burn but it was a futile attempt, he let out a hiss of pain.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione cut in quickly, her concern overwhelming, but kind.

"Your scar-" Ron started and glanced warily at where Harry was massaging the lightning bolt on his forehead.

"I need to-" He didn't have the chance to finish before he bolted to his feet, left his bag behind, and hurried quickly out of the Great Hall.

He didn't know where his feet were taking him, only that Professor Snape had left dinner shortly before Harry had himself, and all Harry could think was that Snape had gone back to his office, and perhaps he was taking his tea there before doing his grading or, at least, he had tried to think that this was the case and not that Snape had been summoned. Not for this. If it was a good summons, it only meant something horrible had happened, and if it was a bad summons, Snape would face the consequences of that in some way, as Harry had seen before and he unconsciously needed to know.

As he burst unceremoniously into Snape's office, Harry was pained to see that he wasn't there, and a moment of desperation shook through him as his scar seared again and he had to reach for the corner of Snape's desk to steady himself. Breathe.

Snape could handle himself, Harry was more than well aware of that, but it wasn't enough to settle the panic that had begun to shake him to the core.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry spun quickly at the sound of Snape's voice behind him, so quickly, in fact, that he nearly lost his balance and had only just managed to steady himself before pain was ripping through his scar again and he let out a protest of pain, "What are you-?"

"You...you're still here? I-I think h-he's angry, or...happy, I can't tell-fuck-"

"Focus, Harry. Calm down, breathe. Center your mind," Snape instructed smoothly, calmly as he shut his office door behind him and conjured a chair just in time for Harry to drop into it and brace both his hands on his knees as he tried to think through the pain.

Snape had helped him restore some sort of normalcy with his friends, he did not think Snape would lead him astray here, either. There was a silky quality to Snape's voice then, he wasn't trying to intimidate him, or verbally maim him. He was genuinely trying to soothe him, and that was strange in itself.

"I can't, he's too-ah-" Harry closed his eyes then and fought the urge to cry out against the pain, when he looked up at Snape again, he was rummaging through a drawer in his desk and Harry found that he suddenly couldn't hear what Snape was saying to him as he stepped closer and held a vial out for him. He reached for it, he was sure that Snape meant for him to drink it, but when he reached for the vial it seemed to multiply in front of him and he wasn't sure which one to grab.

As he lost consciousness officially, Harry was sure he felt the vague impression of lithe arms encircling him so that he wouldn't fall.

When Harry came around, he realized that Snape had just let him slump back in the chair-it musn't have been long, because Snape hadn't moved all that far from where Harry had last seen him, right? He vaguely remembered arms around him, but chose not to say anything as Snape finally held the vial to him again and he was able to grab it and drink it without a second thought.

"That will ward off the headache."

Now that the pain in his scar was over, Harry did realize the only pain left was the dull throbbing behind his eye and at the back of his skull (only getting worse), but the potion had immensely relieved that stress.

"Now, Potter, please explain to me what was so important that you felt the need to interrupt my night off? You do remember my giving you the night off, do you not?"

Harry pursed his lips and nodded, but felt too embarrassed to say much of anything. He had just fainted in front of Snape. He had just gotten caught running to Snape's office by Snape because...what? He was strangely comforted by Snape's sarcasm, the way that he always kept Harry on his guard and yet disarmed him all at once, the way that he made him feel utterly normal as opposed to the ridiculous notion of perfection and notoriety he was supposed to live up to. But it wasn't only that.

It was the fact that, for a moment, the bitterness that tainted his every thought had had him truly worried that Snape was going to be summoned, that he was going to answer the summons and have to face whatever it was that Voldemort was working on or planning. He had, essentially, been worried about Severus Snape.

Worried about Snape?

Ron would have rolled over and died if he'd known.

"I'm waiting," Snape said finally and his arms were crossed over his chest, he was staring down at Harry, but for the moment, he didn't feel like any less of a person on the receiving end of Snape's sneer.

"You left the Great Hall in such a hurry, and then my scar started to-I thought he was summoning you and I had to check that you were-but you're still here-"

"In the flesh," Snape enunciated firmly, as if to prove it to him through the thoroughness of his speech, "However, had I not been here, what would you have done? Summoned a crew to go after me? Potter, this is my job, it's what I do for the Order. It's not your duty to decide otherwise. Whatever your intentions were tonight, they were foolish-and you are lucky that I had not excused myself, perhaps, to firecall a colleague. What would your great plan be had you burst in here on say, Lucius Malfoy and I?" Harry shrugged his shoulders and found himself frowning before he looked away.

"I wasn't thinking-"

"No, you weren't thinking, if you had been thinking, perhaps you could have avoiding fainting? You must always think, Potter, always be ready-"

"This was different, something's happened. I could feel it before and I tried to stop it, but I couldn't get a grip on it-"

"You said you couldn't tell if he was angry or happy? I assure you, happiness is not an emotion the Dark Lord feels loosely." Harry had to laugh at that, he ignored Snape's inquiring stare and shook his head before he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "Have you been sleeping?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, like that would qualify as an answer.

"No, then?" Harry nodded slowly.

"I sleep alright the first few hours, but Ron says by the end of the night I'm always thrashing about, it's like...the deeper I fall the sleep the harder it is to block everything out."

Snape snorted and rolled his eyes, "Of course it is," he pursed his lips, "If the Dark Lord does learn the connection between your minds is still open, he might use it now to manipulate your...dreams. He might use them against you in ways you can scarcely imagine-" something in Snape's voice told Harry that Snape was one of the few people that could imagine it. Harry looked away from Snape's piercing gaze-if Voldemort ever saw what he dreamt about...Harry put his face in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.

"I'm no match for him. You've said it yourself. I'm nothing special, I'm no where near the wizard you and Dumbledore are...this can't be up to me. I'm nothing compared to him. All he did was kill my parents and suddenly it's up to me. What if he had chosen Neville? Would it be up to him, then? Would the Prophecy concern him? Why did he pick my family? Why did he pick them? My mother and father died for me-my mother begged for my life, and he tried to spare her-I heard it...if she'd just let him kill me she would be-"

"Don't you dare dishonor your mother like that. As if Lily Evans would have stood aside and offered up her only child-" Snape hissed scathingly and turned his back on Harry then, "She gave her life for you, she protected you, and you will repay her for that, Potter, or so help me-"

"I just meant that she should have saved herself. He would have spared her. He gave her a warning-she would be alive right now, she would have deserved her life-" He couldn't stop, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out of him now that he'd opened that flood gate. He was usually so accomplished at remaining tight-lipped, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop. "-her sacrifice is wasted on me, and don't you for a second try to tell me otherwise, I know you've thought it, I know you've told Dumbledore a million times that everything is doomed because I'm more of an arrogant toe-rag than my father was-"

"Potter."

"-I'm more like him than I am like her, but I'm not even a quarter of the wizard that he was-"

"Potter."

"You hated him, you hate me for it-"

"Harry!"

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Snape flicked his wand and silenced him easily, and well before Harry had the chance to try and block it.

"You are not your father. Nor your mother," It took Snape a few moments to get the words out, but once he managed it, Harry was almost sure he would somehow retract them with his next, "I...must admit, I have tried my hardest to see you for what you are, and I have been forever blinded by the...impressions your father left behind. Your mother was a kind, extraordinary witch-and I perhaps believe that there is more of her in you than I was willing to see before."

Harry hadn't realized his jaw had dropped open when Snape snapped at him to close it before he let in flies.

"Don't let it get to your head, that, I'm afraid, is a quality you did inherit from your father," Snape muttered, and instead of being insulted, Harry laughed and saw Snape's dig for exactly what it wasn't. Snape wasn't trying to insult him with it, he was trying to protect himself from, perhaps, the pain of admitting that he had been wrong about Harry, or maybe it was the fact that he had comforted Harry when he'd needed it, and he couldn't sit with that for too long.

Whatever it was, Harry was grateful for it.

"For future reference, Potter, I do not typically answer a summons when I am at Hogwarts, unless it is a weekend and Dumbledore can allow me to get away. Your concern was unwarranted and will forever remain unwarranted. Just so you are aware."

"But you did feel it then, he did summon you?"

Snape met Harry's eyes hard for a moment before he, finally, gave a curt nod in response.

"Is he going to be angry with you for not-"

"It is none of your business-"

"You're right, it's not, but I'll find out anyway, won't I?"

"Not if you ever decide to stop wasting my time and become successful at closing your mind," Snape hissed, for the first time realizing that Harry might very well get the answers that he wanted through the nightmares or...visions that came his way. Granted, his nightmares focused more on Vernon, and he hadn't had any sort of insight to Voldemort in a while, but he was sure that it would all happen again when the problem was severe enough.

Snape seemed to realize it too.

They were silent for a while, silent until Harry finally stood and Snape shook himself out of his own head.

As Harry made to leave, Snape spoke again, but Harry did not turn around to see if he meant what he said.

"I did hate your father, but I don't hate you."


	17. In Which Harry Lets Go, Literally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the world they're in, that belongs to the illustrious J.K Rowling!
> 
> I hope you guys are liking it so far. Thanks again for reviewing, I always take them to heart and I try to do my best with what you guys give me!
> 
> Usual warnings on this chapter, perhaps triggering.
> 
> I know it's been a while since I've posted but I've had a lot going on! I have a few chapters to gain back your forgiveness!
> 
> Happy reading!

Severus didn't know why he had said it.

No, that wasn't true. He knew why he'd said it, he just couldn't believe he'd let himself get soft. Because that was exactly what it had been, it had been a weakness. He had seen Harry crumbling in front of him, he had seen him losing any sort of hope he had at getting through this-he had seen minor changes in Harry during their lessons. He'd seen a determination in him, he'd seen a will to defeat the Dark Lord, he'd seen Harry's will to fight...and not just for everyone else, but Severus had been sure a part of Harry had been desperate to fight for himself too.

He couldn't watch the child lose all his hope as quickly as it seemed to have been pouring out of him through his words, he'd known that sort of desperation before, he'd known it first hand.

And he had meant every word. He did hate James Potter, still, to this very day. Dead he might be, but someone that haunted Severus still. It was a deep seeded childhood hate, harbored by years of being indebted to a woman he had loved, his once dearest friend-

The Headmaster had been completely disgusted with him when he'd gone to beg for Lily's life, he'd been disgusted that Severus would just cast off the child and the man Lily loved as well-he had not had it in him then to have respected her choices...he had it in him now, though, to make up for the mistake he'd made all those years ago in pleading with the Dark Lord to spare her, and only her.

Had he had any ounce of courage then, he would have begged and died for them all.

At least now he could ease his own self-loathing with the knowledge that he had assured their son that he did not hate him.

Brilliant, truly. Brilliant that he thought something so trivial and mediocre would make up for the cowardice he had shown in his youth.

A part of him did hate Harry Potter, but only because he showed an arrogant, pigheaded disregard for his own bloody skin. He would sacrifice himself for the world, blindly, if he thought it would help. He was a sixteen year old boy with more courage than he had had in his twenties. Things were different now, being dubbed a coward had not suited him, and he had changed to suit the bravery Albus often made note of in order to make him feel less hopeless than he did when rarely expressed in uncharacteristically weak moments.

He was not a coward. He was not weak...but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he felt so bloody terrified over the prospect of Harry knowing that he didn't hate him. If anything, he should have taken satisfaction in knowing that this might bring Harry to trust him more, which would in turn, improve their lessons, and eventually he'd see much less of...of Potter.

Bloody Albus and his manipulative tricks-he'd lulled himself into a false sense of security by calling the boy Harry. Potter was far more distancing.

He was only supposed to train Potter. Train him and keep him alive.

He didn't need the burden of feeling anything even remotely close to kinship for the boy.

Severus reached up and undid the top buttons of his shirt, the ones that felt like they could strangle him if they wanted to. His arm was burning, a constant reminder of what he was, what he was missing-and clearly, Ha-Potter thought it was something important. Now, normally, he would have chalked Potter's impulsiveness up to attention-seeking, but the sheer shock and awe on his face when Severus had appeared behind him had been enough to stop those insults from rolling off of his tongue.

As he removed his cloak from his shoulders and dropped into the chair behind his desk, Severus found himself vaguely drawn to thoughts of Potter. And not anything even remotely insulting came to mind. Not initially.

Seeing the boy faint like he had, and whether it be from sheer pain or the exhaustion of trying to keep his mind free of the Dark Lord's infiltration, had disarmed him. He had immediately responded, kept him from falling to the ground and remained close in case he should slip from where Severus had propped him. In those moments, Severus had noticed a few things about Potter that he hadn't before.

Not only had the boy grown into more of a man, but he had inherited a few more of his mother's features than anyone ever really cared to point out. He had Lily's eyes, that much was certain. He had known that the moment he'd first laid eyes on Potter. While he had his father's hair, the unruly mop he could never quite seem to keep tame, not that Severus even thought he tried, he had Lily's cheekbones, they were high and prominent, elegant in a way that James Potter had never been.

Elegant. Severus was going to make himself sick.

Potter was lean, too lean, mayhaps, but Severus had seen him at mealtimes more regularly, he had seen effort on Potter's part to rebuild what had been taken from him, summer after summer. Nutrition that would have allowed him to grow into his full potential, he should have been taller, but Severus supposed it was for the right that he wasn't. After all, being as short and as slight as he was would make him a smaller target in battle. He had been watching Harry, unbeknownst to him, of course, take the broken parts of himself and eradicate them completely, to erase any memory of the hole he'd been dug (and for the first time, Severus was beginning to see that Harry hadn't entirely dug it alone). Albus had helped. The Dark Lord was essential. Potter's mutt godfather had done some digging for him, too.

Potter's downfall would not be brought on by himself alone, but by the people surrounding him.

Along with the ever-present reminder that the Dark Lord would haunt his every waking (and sleeping) moment.

Severus ripped himself from further thoughts of the...the witless boy and pulled open one of his desk drawers, removed a bottle of Firewhiskey, conjured a glass, and poured himself a stiff drink that he swallowed in one.

He wasn't the type to lose himself at the bottom of a bottle, or even a glass, it was far too dangerous for him to let his guard down like that, but every once in a while, he could stand to have a moment like this in his office. Privately, of course. He flicked his wand again to be sure the door was locked (it always was, but he would forever double-check). At least, here, he could garner himself with a few moments to be, as Potter had once put it, fucking human.

Harry couldn't sleep.

He had begged off early, just after filling Ron and Hermione in on what had happened.

Of course, he'd left off the bit about running to Snape and fainting in his office. He'd left out what Snape had said to him just before he'd walked out the door. In all honesty, Harry didn't know why he'd felt compelled to keep that from them. It wouldn't have been a big deal, they knew he was working with Snape, he could have easily played it off. Hermione would have thought it was the right thing to do, she would have burst with something like, "Oh-I'm proud of you, Harry! You've really been working so hard and it's all pay off when you can keep Voldemort out of your mind for good!" And Ron, Ron would have been skeptical, he would have turned his nose up at the thought of Harry running to Snape, of all people, but he would have accepted it, if for no other reason than to support him.

But Harry wouldn't take that as an out. It would be far too easy for Harry to tell himself that he was essentially lying to his friends because he didn't want to disappoint them with his ineptitude (had he gotten that word from Snape?) and his weakness. It was easier for him to admit to shame than it was for him to admit the fact that something about his interaction with Snape had felt private, far too private to tell either of them. It was hard for him to admit that Snape's opinion was important to him, and he had finally gotten approval that truly meant something to him because it had been honest, and it hadn't been about the prophecy, or his fate, or what he was meant for...it had just been about him.

It had been nice while it had lasted.

But things couldn't be about him forever.

He lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores coming from Ron and the murmuring that Seamus was making in the corner. He had tried counting sheep, tried running over quidditch moves in his head, had gone through all the new spells he'd learned and still, he couldn't find it in himself to sleep.

Harry found his mind wandering back to Snape, of all people. Snape who didn't hate him, Snape who didn't think he was like his father as much as everyone else seemed to, Snape who saw him for what he was, and nothing more. That was all he wanted, really, to be Harry. Just Harry.

But he could settle for Potter.

It was as comforting a thought as it was unsettling, that Snape, of all bloody people, was the one who had finally gave him what he truly wanted, and without any pretense that Harry wanted it. When he finally drifted off somewhere between four and five in the morning, his dreams weren't as terrifying as they usually were. They weren't flashbacks starring Vernon and Voldemort wasn't attacking anyone he loved, but Snape was in them and Snape was kind in his own terrifying way. He almost felt safe in his dreams then, he didn't feel as if his mind were constantly under attack.

Maybe he should have tried to block them out, he was far too trusting of these suddenly "safe" dreams. He told himself even as he opened his mind further and let them in. The dreams didn't stay safe, not for long. The moment he let his guard down completely and found himself fully embraced by sleep, Harry felt an unconscious change, and his dreams turned to nightmares.

They started with Cedric. Cedric in the graveyard, alive and then dead, and pleading for Harry to take his body back to his father. What a request that had been, no last words, no "Tell my parents I love them," tell "Cho she was a great girl," he had just wanted his body brought back. His body, at seventeen, Cedric had had to request for his dead, lifeless body to be brought back. It was Harry's fault he was dead. It had been Harry that had almost played with the idea of leaving him behind, Harry who had decided they should take the cup together- it had been his fault that Cedric had been murdered, Harry was the one Voldemort had wanted, Cedric had been collateral damage.

The dream didn't stop where it usually did, it jumped to Cedric screaming at him, chasing him through a maze of overgrown hedges and dead ends where snakes were waiting to swallow him up like Devil's Snare. More than once he found himself falling through a bed of snakes into a cold dark chamber, but the dream always launched to Sirius as he was falling, and in turn, he watched Sirius fall through the veil on repeat.

The moment Vernon showed up, Harry began thrashing as he normally did, he was used to guilt, used to blame-he could sleep through those parts of his nightmares, but it was the bit with Vernon that always messed with him. He didn't know this, didn't know where the thrashing began or if it ever stopped, but even in his unconscious he was fighting Vernon, trying to get rid of the memories, trying to fight off the nightmares that he'd all but welcomed in by letting his guard down.

Having this connection with Voldemort's mind was a poison, Voldemort poisoned his every move, whether or not the monster was conscious of it. Voldemort's innate evil clawed at Harry every day, it seeped into his skin and through his veins and tainted every good thing in his life. A good dream turned into a nightmare, a chance at a proper life...never.

He couldn't shoved the nightmares away once they started, he never could, but he couldn't wake himself either. Even Vernon's insults, slurred at him in parseltongue (they were even more guttural and horrible that way) didn't wake him, and he re-lived the worst rape he'd been through at the Dursley's.

Vernon had always been rough with him but that time had been different.

And, when he woke, plagued by exhaustion, Harry reeked of something hopeless. But it wasn't just that, no, it was far worse. He didn't want to get out of bed, he didn't want to bloody move. He loathed himself, every part of himself. He wasn't his father, sure, but he was so much worse. He'd killed Cedric, he'd killed Sirius, a countless number of people had died for him, for something he was supposed to be good for. He couldn't protect himself from his own bloody dreams, how in the fuck could he be expected to kill Voldemort? He couldn't protect himself from an obese muggle he was useless. He felt useless.

Harry could have done with a few more hours of sleep, but there wasn't a chance of it after everything. If only he had thought to book the pitch a few hours later-if he had just had the mind to hold practice off until after lunch he would have been able to get himself in the mindset for quidditch, he would have had time to ward off the nausea and disgust that had settled its way into the pit of his stomach.

He was pathetic for letting himself believe he could be happy over something, pathetic for believing in the thought that he might actually be worth something more than he was fated for.

Disgusting, gluttonous, whore-

He shook the voice of his Uncle, shook the bitter thoughts from his head and tried hard not to tell himself that he might very well be good for something else, the very else that made him sick to his stomach and had him mounting his broom quicker than the rest of the team and kicking off hard from the ground so that Vernon's voice wasn't as loud and vicious in his ears as the wind was.

The longer practice wore on, the worse Harry began to feel, the worse he was beginning to lose himself in his thoughts (or perhaps he would have done well to eat something). More than once Ginny had flown by him and asked if he was alright, told him he needed to wake up or he'd fall off of his broom.

Gods, he didn't deserve to be on the team, let alone captain of it. Try-outs had been a mess, but he'd managed to get a decent team together, if only they could find themselves a better seeker...

He didn't deserve a happiness to waste time on, not when there was so much else he was supposed to be working towards-he was just going to let his team down this year, if he forced his happiness on them. He was a dead weight, and anyone dragging him along was bound to be picked off for it.

There was something miserable about him then, something dejected and painful aching in his chest. It wasn't his heart. It just hurt, it knocked all the wind out of him-

"HARRY!"

-he had never understood this sort of self-loathing before, he had never had a word for it, but in that moment, Harry Potter realized with astounding clarity that he hated himself more than anything.

Harry had seen the bludger as it was coming, he had heard his teammates calling out to him, but he found himself unmoved as it came towards him, he could have easily blamed it on zoning out, on being too exhausted because of his extra lessons, he wasn't worried about what anyone would think.

He just wanted to hurt, he needed to hurt. He couldn't stand himself and if a bludger to the chest would help him feel anything remotely like what he had done to other people, he would take it ten fold.

"CATCH HIM, RON!" Ginny was screaming, as Ron had already started after him and she couldn't urge her broom any faster and Harry was already slipping sideways off of his broom and his eyes were closing and he was sure that the wind was whipping through his ears, everything was black, and the last thing he heard were the screams of his teammates.


	18. In Which Potter Insists His Name is Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the world they are in. I'm messing with the plot loads, and let's be real, it's got nothing on J.K Rowling's talent!
> 
> WOW, guys, first I just have to say how much I appreciate the reviews. A bunch of you got back to me about my portrayal of Severus and I really took it all to heart so I hope this chapter continues in the way that you all want to see things develop! I'm genuinely grateful that you guys take the time to let me know what you think (you know who you are ;)
> 
> And of course, trigger warnings in this chapter. Harry's a bit depressed, there are gonna be some mentions of abuse.
> 
> Also, guys, I just realized a major fuck up on my part. I have that Angelina is the captain of the Gryffindor team, but seeing as she graduated last year, I've gone back and fixed things up so that Harry can take his proper spot as Captain. What's another burden on the Boy Who Lived, right? So, just to clarify, Harry is captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I had to make a few minor edits to do in order to make that happen, but you heard it from me yourself: Harry is captain here, as he is in the books.
> 
> Cool? Cool.

Albus Dumbledore stood just outside the infirmary, along with Professor's McGonogall, Snape, and Flitwick, who had just happened to be passing by when all hell had broken loose. The entirety of the Gryffindor quidditch team, save for Ron Weasley, who was dutifully perched at Harry's bedside with Hermione, had been blabbing incessantly about what had happened.

Severus knew what had happened.

"It was lucky that you were there, Severus," Albus offered quietly and he gave the old man a curt nod of agreement. Lucky was one word for it.

Snape had, essentially, saved Harry's life (again) in the nick of time. He had watched from afar with the Slytherin team as they made their way out to the pitch, Draco had asked him to come along and ensure they got their full allotted practice time in, seeing as the Gryffindor team had no regard or courtesy for the rules and liked to practice over their own allotment, Severus hadn't seen any harm in going along.

A part of him had genuinely hoped to catch sight of Potter flying again, and really flying, not just the memories of it, or the thought of freedom in general, but it would have been appealing to see the truth of it written on Harry's movements. Flying a broom, Snape had come to learn these past few weeks, was the only thing that Potter ever took pride in, if he garnered the time to take pride in it at all.

What he had arrived on, was not at all what he had expected.

Surely, he'd expected to see Potter showing off, or rather, enjoying himself in the air on the broom that his mutt godfather had purchased to sequester Slytherin's chance at the cup-but that was not what he'd seen at all.

There had been hardly any time to react, he could see the cluster of Gryffindors flying at Harry's lifeless body as it tumbled through the air, there was bound to be another accident if he didn't stop it before it got any further.

A part of him hoped, at least, that Potter would know he'd done it, not because the savior of the Wizarding World was plummeting to his untimely death (or a perilous injury), but because Harry, just Harry, was. Saving him had nothing to do with the promises he'd made, or the necessity of keeping Potter in the war, and it had everything to do with the fact that Severus couldn't simply sit back and let it happen, despite the quiet urging he'd pretended not to hear from the more malicious of the group.

Let him die, we'll have no competition for the cup-

Oh, fuck the cup, the Dark Lord would be-

A sharp look from none other than Draco Malfoy had shut both Urquhart and Vaisey up immediately. Severus would have commented himself, but he'd only had the time to raise his wand and slow Potter's fall to a stop.

The damage had been extraordinary, when Severus had reached close enough, he was certain that Harry's chest had all but caved in, his breathing had been extremely labored.

Gryffindor's beater was sobbing still, saying that he hadn't meant to, that he had just knocked the bludger out of the way so that it wouldn't hit Ginny, and Ginny was patting him on the shoulder, red-faced and holding back tears herself.

Severus didn't understand why they were still bloody crying, it had been essentially terrifying, at first, but Harry was going to be fine, Poppy had announced that to all of them herself an hour ago. The students weren't under an investigation, as some of them seemed to believe with their ramrod straight postures and 'professional' declarations of circumstance.

"You are telling me, Miss Weasley, that Mr. Potter simply froze?" Minerva was asking again, something about it wasn't settling with any of them, but her especially, "He's a well-conditioned quidditch player, and he froze in the direct path of a bludger?" As Ginny nodded, Minerva's lips pursed and she turned towards Albus as if at a loss, but Albus was looking at Snape.

He was being far too quiet, he knew as much, but he would rather not voice his opinions in front of a pack of arrogant Gryffindors.

Harry had seemed...alright the night before, when he'd left his office, but had something happened between then and the moment he supposedly "froze"? No, Severus didn't buy that Potter had merely "froze". It went deeper than that, and if what he believed was true, they had something far worse on their hands.

"I need a word, Headmaster. In private."

Snape's voice shocked the rest of them into a frenzy, they were tripping over their words again, trying to explain the story from the start, but Severus had seen it happen for himself, he didn't need another explanation.

He had to tell the Headmaster what he knew, what he'd seen. What he'd rescued Harry from over the summer. Surely, Dumbledore knew there was a certain degree of neglect at the Dursley's, but Severus was sure he didn't know how far the neglect went and where the abuse had started. This could only be a product of that, if Harry was struggling to come to terms with what those Muggle-pigs had done to him, and if this had been how he dealt with it-

"Of course, Professor Snape, this way-" Albus seemed like he knew there was more to the story than anyone had been able to let on, just yet, and the prospect of hearing it from Severus himself was one that enticed him-

Alas, before Severus could follow him down the hall for a chamber more private and less privy to overzealous, eavesdropping little lions, the Infirmary door burst open, and Poppy was trying to quietly break up the crowd before she told them Harry Potter had woken up.

Potter was markedly good at saving his secrets when it came down to it, Severus could at least give him that.

A quick glance and a nod was all it took for Severus to know this was a conversation they would have to have later. Madam Pomfrey barred the quidditch team from coming in all at once, and it wasn't until they had all checked in on Harry that Snape found himself at Potter's bedside with Minerva and Albus.

"Mr. Potter needs more rest," Madam Pomfrey insisted as Weasley and Granger made intent motions to stay, but because there appeared no clear way for them to have leverage here, Ron stood and told Harry they would come back as soon as they were allowed (and the red-headed arrogant little fool gave Snape a look of absolute abhorrence, as if it were his personal fault they were being kicked out). Oblivious to this exchange, Hermione leaned over to give Harry a kiss on the cheek, to which he flinched away markedly and let out a sharp cry of pain that had Madam Pomfrey starting forward quickly and Harry flinching further away all the more.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry, Harry, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to-!" Miss Granger was reduced to tears again and Ron led her gently from the room, a gesture that Harry watched apologetically. It hadn't been Miss Granger's fault, Severus and Harry both knew that.

Once they were gone, Harry seemed to deflate. For a moment, Severus believed that Harry was about to reduce himself to nothing amongst the bed-linens, but then Albus spoke, and Harry face steeled into a firm mask void of anything that Snape would have hoped to read. He is getting good at that, Snape noted in his agitation. It was becoming hard for him to read the boy before him, especially so when he was the one teaching Harry to avoid eye contact or any contact at all to block off his mind from an intruder.

Severus did not look around to Albus when he spoke, he kept his eyes trained on Harry and found, with surprise, that Albus seemed to be struggling to read him too. Harry was more intent on deflecting the Headmasters gentle prods on his mind than he was intent on Snape's. If anything, it suggested more of a fear for the Headmaster than himself, and that was a peculiar thought to Snape. Or rather, it should have been, but Snape knew far more than the Headmaster now in regards to Harry. It was hard for Snape to process that he might know more about Dumbledore's Golden Boy than Dumbledore knew himself, and a part of him, and only for a moment, wondered if Albus did know. It wouldn't have been the first time Snape would have felt wronged by the Headmaster. If it came to light that he had known what Potter was suffering through the entire time he'd lived with his Aunt and Uncle, it would have felt like one of the worst.

It was a jarring thought to him, realizing that he had found a morsel in his heart that could care for Harry Potter, of all people, it was jarring, but it did not deter his efforts to invade the boys mind and, in turn, his privacy.

"Would you like to tell us what happened, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired, not unkindly, though Severus had known him long enough to hear the off-note in his voice. The only other time (that Severus knew of) when Dumbledore didn't know what was going through the head of one of his students was in regards to the Dark Lord himself.

Harry's eyes darted immediately to Professor Snape at Dumbledore's question-he hadn't meant to do it, but he had just been struck with the idea that Snape could easily call him out for lying if he tried to work up some ridiculous story as to why he'd been knocked off his broom, Snape could see through him, he'd told Harry as much before, and Harry was only more sure of it when he met the black onyx eyes of his Occlumency teacher.

Snape knew. And if he outed him then and there, Dumbledore would know too, Dumbledore would want to know why, and that would open up an endless corridor of doors that reminded Harry all too much of the Department of Mysteries.

"No, Professor, I wouldn't-most of it's foggy, anyway. I'm sure the team told it better than I could," Harry said quietly with a display of modesty sickening enough that Snape wanted to smirk, but instead he pursed his lips at the hoarseness in his voice. Quite the actor, aren't you, Potter? Snape thought to himself, mildly impressed at the boy's easy deflection.

"I see, very well, nothing to be done for that, I suppose. It's best you rest-"

"Could I talk to Professor Snape, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at that, and with a half turn to Severus, he spoke, "I think you'd have to ask him that yourself, he is standing right before you, after all?"

Harry's cheeks flushed crimson and Dumbledore excused himself after that, leaving him with Snape.

Harry fixed his eyes somewhere between Snape's chin and his shoulders, it was easier not to look at him, not when he suddenly felt so guilty under Snape's glare.

"Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me or are you to continue staring in silence?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat so he closed it again and looked away helplessly. This was worse than he'd thought it would be. Snape just looked so angry with him, like he wasn't sure whether to blame him or strangle him for having been so reckless- unless he knew, or thought he knew -

"Did you do this on purpose?" Snape's question didn't catch him off guard, but all the same his eyes flicked quickly in the man's direction, shame and guilt written fresh all over his face. He wouldn't say it. He couldn't- it was pathetic.

Almost as pathetic as getting fucked like a pig by Vernon-

The thought came so sharply through him that it felt like he'd been cut and he moved as if to get up to give himself space but pain shot through his chest, a sharp gasp of pain tore through his lips, and then Snape's hands were on him, holding him back against the bed. Where Snape had been trying to help, Harry only saw stars as the strong slender hand of his Potion's Master made contact with the very spot on his chest that the Skele-gro Madam Pomfrey had given him was trying to mend.

The pain, however, distracted him from thoughts of Vernon and the feel of hands, a man's hands on him. The pain kept him from associating Snape's gesture with other moments like this, moments where his Uncle had dug his beefy fingers hard against his arms and pinned him down with brutal force.

Snape's hands lacked that brutal force, too. Instead of focusing on the pain in his chest, he was suddenly focusing on the feel of Snape's hands. Despite the fact that his chest felt as if it were on fire, Snape's hands were gentle. They were tender, but firm, as if trying to stop him from causing himself more pain. They were long and slender, as if his fingers had been worn long by playing the piano. His hands felt cool through the thing hospital gown compared to the heat Harry was giving off.

"You have a fever, Potter, and you are to rest. That means no moving," Snape instructed him in a cool, velvety voice that had Harry settling back agreeably against the pillows he had propped under him, "We're going to talk, and by talk I mean you will listen and speak when I ask it of you, is that clear?"

Harry said nothing, there was no way out of this. He owed Snape an explanation, he'd devoted his free time these past few weeks to training him, and Harry had been so ready to throw it all away, for nothing.

He was so selfish.

"Did you do this on purpose?"

Harry opened his mouth briefly before closing it and dropping his eyes.

"You did, then. Why?"

Harry shook his head and swallowed thickly.

"I asked you a question, I expect an answer."

Harry's lips felt wired shut, and even if he had the ability to open his mouth, he wouldn't have the words to offer Professor Snape. Frankly, it was none of his business. He didn't have to worry, he was alive and well (albeit, not so well) his plan hadn't worked the way it was supposed to, and now he could carry out what he was here for. 

Maybe after that, maybe he'd have another chance, maybe it would all end up killing him in the end.

"Don't force my hand, Potter."

"Harry, my name is Harry," he blurted without thinking, a flash of frustration because here Snape was, trying to pick at the most private places of his mind, and he still saw him as no less than a surname. Here, in this moment, Snape was asking him to be desperately human, he wanted Harry to bare his weaknesses so he could pick at them, and he wouldn't even address him by his name.

Professor Snape, for the first time since Harry had ever known him, gave a flash of emotion so cutting that Harry's face fell further, if it were possible, and he was sure that he'd crossed a line he wouldn't come back from.

"Harry, then. Tell me why, Harry," Professor Snape insisted in earnest, his expression even again.

"I can't," Harry muttered weakly and he met Snape's eyes then, with the sudden realization that he was so close and his hands were still on him but they weren't there to hurt him, only to keep him from hurting himself. "I can't say it," Harry tried again, his voice more pronounced now. He knew what his words sounded like, and he knew he wasn't going to get out of this, and he was slowly resigning his determination, but he couldn't say it.

He would force Snape's hand, he would allow it.

Professor Snape sat up straight then and dropped his hands from Harry without a second thought, "Contrary to what I usually tell you, Harry, do not clear your mind, for this."

At the start, there was resistance, Harry was naturally inclined to defend himself now, if anything, it was a mark of his progress. But it wasn't about his progress now, it was about relinquishing that control to someone he trusted. As curious as it was, Harry trusted Severus Snape, and with that thought- he found his walls breaking away, piece by piece, until he could feel Snape in his head.

It was a strange sensation, to feel Snape poking and prodding gently as opposed to the full-fledged attacks he was used to during lessons.

And he felt as helpless as he had in the air during quidditch practice with all the thoughts running through his head that Snape was seeing right now. Flashes of Cedric, Sirius, the muggles he'd read about in the Prophet, the guilt that came along with it all because they were on him. They were his fucking fault, he had caused them all, as a product of simply existing. It would have laughably been his greatest success to have died so that Voldemort would stop chasing him and killing all the people he loved.

Then there was the guilt that came with wanting to die since it was essentially up to him to kill Voldemort and save everyone else- how could he want to give up so badly?

The answers to that flashed through his mind again.

Uncle Vernon smearing Harry with blood from his own wounds, his uncle, tearing him apart from the inside out each time he had raped him.

His uncle, telling him he was useless, worthless, a disgusting gluttonous pig, selfish and despicable- better off dead-

And then he saw the bludger colliding with him again, he was falling from his broom and starting forward with a shout before Snape's hands were bracing him again.

"It's over, Harry, that's enough," Snape urged and held him still until the rising and falling of his chest was more controlled and less panicked.

Neither of them said anything for a while and, oddly enough, it was exactly what Harry needed.

Severus's hand had slid down the length of Harry's arm and settled against the forearm Harry had alongside him on the cot. Vaguely, Harry realized that Severus's hand wasn't cold nor intruding. Instead, it was warm, and comforting, it relaxed him until his eyes began to close, and before either of them thought to break the silence, Harry fell into a dreamless sleep.


	19. In Which the Author Curses You With a Short Chapter

A part of him was immensely grateful that someone, finally, knew what was going on inside his head all the time...well, not everything. He'd omitted the darkest abuse at the last second. He trusted Snape, but this secret--he wasn't ready to show him everything. But the fact that it was Snape he opened up to, whether or not Harry trusted him, was unsettling. What if Snape didn't understand and wrote him off as insane, or a lost cause? What if he went to Dumbledore? It had seemed like something he could handle last night, the aftermath of coming out about it all, but suddenly it felt like the fallout of everything, and this was the purgatory period before he met his consequences.

Of course, he wasn't really sure how Snape had reacted to it, since he'd fallen asleep last night and the man had been gone when Harry woke, but a part of him hoped that all his worry was for nothing. Especially because he couldn't stand the fucking thought of Dumbledore knowing the details, the dirty, shameful ones-Dumbledore had known of the neglect, he'd admitted as much once before, but he and Harry had wordlessly come to an understanding. He would endure summers at the Dursley's for their protection, because being alive was the most important thing. If Dumbledore had known with certainty what Harry had really been going through, surely he would have saved him from it.

Surely.

Harry knew just how the Headmaster would have looked at him, too, if he'd known- eyes full of sympathy and pity and guilt- the same eyes that Harry had seen before from him. Time and time again, really, but most notoriously after Sirius had died and Harry had destroyed the trinkets in Dumbledore's office like it had been his fucking destiny to do so.

Harry had tried to talk himself out of feeling manipulated, but that had been what Dumbledore had done to him, right? Effectively taking all the blame for Sirius's death, knowing that Harry would have still been plagued by guilt, would give Harry the drive to want to do what he was meant for. It would give Harry no time to grieve, and more time to fight. And the only time he stopped fighting was when he returned to the Dursley's for the summer and Dumbledore didn't need him. The fight had been beaten out of him at the Durlsey's and had always stopped to give him just enough time to build back up. Harry had been conditioned for this life, and giving Dumbledore- one of the closest father figures he'd had, any reason to believe Harry incapable, furthermore being a disappointment.

Snape couldn't have gone to Dumbledore, Harry didn't want to deal with any of that. He didn't need the pity, the declarations of guilt and love, the apologies- he needed to grieve and be human over it. He needed to be upset. It couldn't keep exploding out of him the way it was, because it was dangerous.

If Snape could just have, at the very least, written the whole thing off as one of Harry's usual antics, laced with self-pity and a pathetic show, Harry could get this under control on his own. In his own ways, without the bullshit the came after confessing one's deep dark secrets (and the only time he had ever come close was with Ron and Hermione). Why, why he had chosen Snape, of all people, Harry couldn't figure out.

But maybe, in the long run, he would.

Harry had managed to sleep soundly through the entire night, a feat he hadn't been able to accomplish in ages, and with all that, the Skele-gro had worked its magic and his bones were mended enough that Madam Pomfrey had agreed (at the urgent insistence of his arguments) that he could return to classes, so long as he stopped by at lunch and before dinner to make sure everything was moving along alright.

His first class was double potions, and he was glad to pull open the Half Blood Prince's manual, to run his fingertips over the scrawling on the pages, to study the spells this absolute genius had worked out. Levicorpus and Muffliato were all spells that had become of general use to him over the past couple of months or they would in the future. He hadn't tried out Sectumsempra yet, but there was something foreboding about the way his instructor had written "for enemies" alongside it. Well, Malfoy was an enemy, sure...but what was it that Mr. Weasley had said in his second year to Ginny?

Don't trust anything if you can't see where it thinks.

But this was different, wasn't it?

He made it through double potions with full marks for the day to Hermione's annoyance, but she was relieved enough to see him alive after yesterday's accident that she didn't make a comment about it in his direction.

Now he had to get through double defense with the Slytherin's. And Snape.

He would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't nervous (and mortified) at the prospect of seeing Snape after what had transpired the night before in the Hospital Wing, but the majority of him was more curious to know what was coming next. How would Snape see him, and what would he do now?

In typical fashion, they practiced new spells non-verbally.

Harry wasn't paired with Malfoy, in fact, he was paired curiously with Neville who seemed relieved that his partner was Harry, until Harry caught him off-guard with Levicorpus and he was hanging upside so suddenly that he started choking on air. Harry desperately thought the counter-curse, but Neville was already falling and landing rather ungracefully on a cushion that had appeared out of nowhere, and Snape had appeared too.

"Class dismissed. Not you, Potter, stay."


	20. In Which Two Unlikely People Share a Genuine Laugh

Severus knew Harry Potter for who he was now. He had spent all night in the hospital wing thinking about him. He was, for all intents and purposes, still a child. But he had been through, admittedly, far more than anyone else Severus had ever met. Including Severus himself, he could admit that. While his childhood had been far from enjoyable or traditional, he had not suffered as greatly as Harry had at the hands of his family. He had made some poor choices and used his life as a pathetic excuse to make them. Severus had no problem saying it, he knew himself very well for what he was. And he was envious that Harry Potter was so innately good. Despite all that he'd been through, Harry hadn't broken, not until this point.

He had finally been sent over the edge, after everything he had been through, and Severus was truly shocked that it had taken this long to finally happen.

Saying that he was grateful for it would be a poor choice of words, but a part of him was. The boy, no, the man, had finally gotten the chance to make a choice in his life, as awful a choice as it was, it had given Harry the chance to get everything that weighed on him off of his chest. Harry had, essentially, made a cry for help and Severus had heard him.

He couldn't help but feel a degree of protection over the boy now, more emotionally so than he had ever felt before for Harry in his entire life- his new life, after Albus had taken him in and given him that chance to prove himself as something more than he ever would be as a Death Eater.

These feelings alone were why Severus had left the hospital wing before Harry had woken up, something had stirred in him, a disgusting sort of attachment that he had only known once before. The air in that room had become too thick for him to breathe by morning.

And now the boy had come into his classroom, used his spell in front of him, and didn't have the audacity to have at least perfect the counter-curse?

This child, the savior of their world, the one he had felt unbearably, disgusting sympathetic for just this morning- had intentionally (or not) slapped him across the face for it.

How thickheaded could the boy have been?

How thickheaded was he for leaving his potions book behind, knowing what he'd left written amongst its pages?

Unless Potter had somewhere along the line picked it up from his mutt godfather-

"Did I do something wrong, Professor?" Harry asked eventually, once the silence between them had grown long enough to become uncomfortable for him.

" don't recall that particular spell being in any part of the curriculum?" Severus inquired quickly, swiftly enough that it seemed to catch Harry off guard. The boys face faltered, if only for a moment, and Snape almost took the chance to dive into his memories, but he would give Potter a chance to redeem his stupidity first. If he even thought about lying to him-

"I read it somewhere."

"I didn't hear you, Potter, speak louder. Where did you learn that spell?"

"I said I read it somewhere! I thought we were using magic, so I was just-"

"So you were just being as irresponsible and pigheaded as I was almost telling myself you were not! Your insolence is astounding, Potter, after all this time I had thought-"

"Thought what? I did nothing wrong, it's magic, I'm a wizard, you told us to practice dueling-"

"Oh, yes, now you remember you're a wizard, all the times it could have bloody well come in handy, and you choose now to remember it, tell me, did you not even deign to look at the countercurse? What if I had not known it, what if I had not been able to retrieve Mr. Longbottom and he was to hang by his ankle for all eternity?"

"I suppose Filch would have enjoyed it."

"You suppose - what?" Snape repeated incredulously, thrown off for the first time in how long he couldn't very well say. This was not how he had expected the conversation to go, more or less, he'd been sure that Potter was going to throw some arrogant, hot-headed fit and here the boy was making a joke (as poor in taste as it was).

"I said-"

"I heard you."

The smirk was almost invisible, but to Snape's well-trained eye it would have been spotted miles off, if the need had arisen for him to look so closely. Yes, Potter was smirking at him, and there was something so devilishly disarming about the easiness of it that Snape found his anger dissipating almost as easily as it had come upon him.

"Are you always so tightly wound, Professor?" The boys words were, again, not what Severus was expecting, but he had geared himself for this foreign side of Potter, his expression would not change again. Had he not been focusing on keeping himself in check, Severus would have shot back with an easy 'Are you always so daft, Potter?' but instead, he merely sighed and shook his head, as if to disapprove.

Severus supposed, though he would never make this admission aloud, he supposed that he was over-reacting a bit, after all, Potter could have easily learned that spell from that mutt, or Lupin, it didn't mean - in fact, it was almost entirely impossible, and if not entirely, than it was an extremely unlikely event that his old potions book would fall into the over-privileged hands of Harry Potter. 

"Whether or not you read about that spell, I suggest you run any spells you come across by me before you use them in my classroom, do you hear me?" Snape raised a cold eyebrow at Harry until he resigned and agreed.

"Yes, Professor," Harry moved as if to leave, but Snape was quicker than that, and with a casual flick of his wand, the door to his office opened just as the classroom door snapped shut, leaving Potter no choice, "Merlin's saggy - I'm sorry about the bloody spell, but Neville's fine and I won't use it again!" Harry insisted, but with another harsh look from Severus, he made his way into the Potion Master's, Defense classroom's office and stood well away from Severus as he entered shortly after him and closed the door over by hand.

"Sit, Potter."

"I don't-"

"Harry, sit, now. Before I lose my patience."

The boy did not sit quietly, after all the frustrated huffing, Harry dropped unceremoniously into the chair closest.

"This isn't about the spell," Upon seeing Harry open his mouth to interrupt, Severus flicked his wand and silenced his words as they were about to leave his mouth, "Honestly, did you think we weren't going to talk about it any further?"

"Yes." Harry's answer was brief, the stubborn determination to be as tight-lipped as possible was so irritatingly familiar that Snape almost found himself resisting the urge to smile.

"That was naive of you."

"Oh, yes, quite naive, I should have known you'd never let it rest-"

"If you don't want me to go to the Headmaster with it all, I would at least need to ease my conscience by making sure that you can handle it without another suicide attempt-"

"Don't say it like that-"

"Say it as it was, you mean? Don't run from it, Potter - Harry, that's what it was. It couldn't be considered anything else - I've seen -" Severus cut himself off sharply, he had been about to divulge an insight he would have rather kept personal, at least, an insight he would have rather kept from Potter, of all people. He'd seen what it was like, the devastating urge to end one's own life, "Anyone who had pulled what you pulled would be in Mungo's for a fully-fledged evaluation." To put it plainly. "I've got to prove to myself that you don't belong there right now. Is that understood?" Moreover, could Potter handle that plainly honest truth? This wasn't to poke and prod or injure Potter any further, it was simply to drudge up what had happened now that it had already run its course so he could be sure it wouldn't happen again.

"It was a stupid mistake, an accident, I wasn't thinking it through - I'm glad I didn't, I'm glad that you were there to save me from...I'm glad that you saved my life, alright?"

"If that is your way of dispelling your gratitude, you may keep it-"

"No, I mean - fuck's sake,"

"Language, Potter."

"Thank you, for saving me, again, I guess, I don't suppose I ever really thanked you for it before."

"Flattery won't reassure me of anything-"

"I know it won't, I'm not daft. I genuinely mean it, I'm grateful for what you did, for what you've done. It was reckless and irresponsible of me to throw it away like that so casually, like none of it meant anything-" Harry shook his head and Severus watched as the boys shoulders sagged, and for the first time in a long time, Harry Potter looked like the scared little boy Snape had only just become unaccustomed to seeing. It was funny, if it could be called humorous at all, that he had spent so much time loathing Potter the child when Potter the man already loathed himself enough for both of them.

"Do I need to have one of the House Elves keep an eye on you? Do I need to keep an eye on you myself?"

"In all honesty, Professor, I'm sure Dobby has already set a team of house elves to watching me. I wouldn't be surprised if one was in this very room-"

A true chuckle tore from Severus's lips then, and if you had asked Harry ten minutes ago whether he had ever, or would ever see Snape laugh, he would have sworn up and down that the man did not have it in him to break the stern composure that made up his entirety. He would have bet his life on it, with all due respect.

And yet, there Snape was. His lips were turned upwards, and though he had lifted a hand to his brow to shield his eyes and consequently cast a shadow over his face, Harry could still see the gentle quirk of the man's lips.

He would have never said it to anyone, but the sight before him was beautiful. It was regal and elegant, as polite as a chuckle could ever be, even if it was more a mockery of what Harry had said than true laughter, it was a beautiful mockery, one that Harry found himself admitting he wouldn't mind hearing again. It hadn't even been that funny, but if Snape had asked to hear it again, Harry would have given it to him.


	21. In Which Harry Realizes Everyone is Watching Him

Harry had felt remarkably strange as of late.

Perhaps it was the fact that every time he turned a corner, he swore someone was watching him or, at the very least, turning away before he could catch them in the act.

And he had. Caught them in the act, that was. Quite a few times.

There had been Professor McGonogall in Transfiguration class earlier that morning, watching him while he had been writing his essay - one he promptly gave up on and turned in four inches short and halfway through a sentence. He couldn't bloody well focus with her eyes burning holes into the top of his head every time the scratching of his quill paused while he was in thought.

On the way to double charms, he had felt a familiar rumbling in the marble floor and turned around to greet who he knew was Hagrid, only the half-giant had blurted, "Oh, Harry, di'nt see yer there, I'm lookin' fer Profess'r Sprout-" and lumbered off in the opposite direction.

The fact that even Hagrid was watching him behind his back, literally and figuratively, upset him a bit.

And, most recently, Flitwick - in Charms of course, standing just barely desk height a row behind him with his bespectacled eyes, one a stormy blue and the other emerald green, burning holes into the back of his head. When Harry had turned to look at him, he had gotten flustered, flicked his wand like a man who had been caught unawares, and nearly crisped Seamus Finnigan's eyebrows - which would have been a shame since they'd only just grown back in last week.

As annoyed as he was with Snape for having done this to him, he couldn't actually find it in himself to be truly annoyed with Snape for it.

In fact, if Harry though about it enough, it was probably Dumbledore he was annoyed with. He couldn't picture Severus - Snape going around to all the other Professors and telling them to keep an eye on him. Instead, he pictured it rather like the Headmaster had addressed the staff and implored them all to pay careful mind or something equally as cryptic that would have warranted this very result. Harry admittedly found himself picturing a very subdued Snape in the back of the room so he could slip out as gracefully as he had come, quicker and quieter than anyone could have even noticed him there. It was a painfully intriguing thought, one he smothered almost immediately.

The entire school was treating him differently, Ron was always ready to jump to his aid, Hermione was just as quick to head Ron off when he lost his temper with Harry's more subdued, vacant personality. He wasn't vacant, he was very much present in every moment, Harry was just more thoughtful, he enjoyed the quiet he took for himself because it helped him to contain himself. It helped him to contain everything he was thinking and feeling - things he couldn't, wouldn't tell Ron and Hermione about, even though every word he did managed to utter felt heavier than the last. Speaking felt like a trigger, one he was so desperate not to pull, because that would surely lead to all of his secrets spilling out in a garbled, disgusting mess for them to deal with.

"-arry, Haaarry, oi, mate, toshpop-"

Ron reached out to thwack him over the head, to which Harry jerked, noticeably disturbed and reeled away while Hermione reprimanded Ron for resorting to mild violence, "Relax, 'mione, at least it worked, he was in another fucking world-"

"Ron-"

"I'm just sayin', we were calling out to your forever mate, the bell sounded ages ago and yeh didn't even move."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and looked towards the large grandfather clock in the corner of the Charms classroom, sure enough, lunch was soon to start and class had ended twenty minutes ago, "I don't- I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"Is everything okay, mate? Your bloody quiet, more than usual, and you've been a right mess at night too, shouting out in your sleep, Seamus was close to strangling you las-"

"I'm fine."

"But you're not fine, Harry, you're not! I'm sick of you saying you are, we can see it, everyone can see it. Ginny's on the verge of writing to Mrs. Weasley and Lupin, Hagrid's just short of going to Dumbledore, and Professor McGonogall's asked me how I think you've been. I covered for you once, but I won't do it again, I can't stand this anymore. Frankly, I think you should talk to someone. We clearly can't help you - since you won't let us, mind you, but we're not going to sit around and let it go on like this!"

Harry hadn't expected Hermione to speak to him so bluntly, her words were laced with more than concern, they were touched with anger and sadness too. He expected to feel guilty, and a part of him did, but a larger part of him felt anxious, a larger part of him was compelling him to get to his feet and start to gather up his things.

"Don't walk away from us, we just want to help you, mate-"

"I don't need your help, I'm fine on my own. I'm sick of everyone fucking watching me, like I'm going to explode. It's fucking infuriating-" and he would have gone on, if he hadn't realized how horribly he was contradicting himself, "Just leave me alone for a right long while, I've had enough of everyone on my case."

With that, he swung his bag over his shoulder and started towards the door of the classroom at a hurried pace, ignoring Ron calling after him angrily and the sound of Hermione's muffled tears. He was ashamed, ashamed to leave them like that, ashamed to know that he was so selfish for not realizing how he was acting wasn't just taking its toll on him, but on the people who cared about him, too.

All they wanted was to make sure he was okay, to help him, and he was ungrateful for it, he refused to confide in them about his Uncle and about Voldemort, about the levels of stress and depression it was piling on top of him. He couldn't even trust his best friends with the worries he had on his mind, how was he supposed to confide in anyone?

His steps didn't slow until he found himself making the familiar trek to Snape's office. He didn't know why he thought Snape would be there, it was lunchtime, after all - but Severus didn't often share his lunch in the Great Hall with the students. Harry could see why. It was far quieter down in the dungeon, and as he pushed through the classroom doors and towards the office he found himself relaxing.

He knocked once before the door swung open of its own accord and he looked up to see Snape sitting behind his desk, flicking through parchment casually, a pair of glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose so he could look over the top of them, as if he'd been ready for this moment all afternoon.

"Are you going to sit, Potter, or are you just going to stand there like some- is everything alright?" Harry didn't know what it was on his face that changed Snape's tact, but he was utterly grateful for it. In that moment, at least.

He didn't know what it was about Snape that had him dropping his defenses as easily as he dropped into one of the chairs opposite the man's desk. Harry propped his elbows on his knees and put his hands over his face with a shake of his head before he finally gave the only response that came to mind "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"One of my many secrets."

"I just-" Harry shook his head and looked up in time to see Snape push his chair back from his desk and away from his ominous stack of grading before he gave a gracefully casual stretch of his back, arms extended just briefly behind his head. It was such a human moment that Harry forgot himself, forgot, even, that Severus Snape was human. It was a comfortable move and Harry only briefly let himself believe that Snape was comfortable in front of him, in some sense of the word.

Dark onyx eyes surveyed him curiously over crossed arms and Harry snapped back to the present in time to realize that Snape was waiting for him to stop pushing off the inevitable waste of his time. He shouldn't have come here, it was a stupid idea. Confessing to Snape all the fucking shit racing around his head would only serve to make him look weak and pathetic, Snape would hold no higher regard for him - not that he held one for Harry now at all. Or...did he?

"Go on."

"It's just- they're all pushing me, they're all so suffocating. Everyone want something from me, answers and explanations. I know you think I'm some glutton for attention, but I hate it with everything I've got, I just need to be left alone."

"Again, you are mistaken, Harry, I don't think you enjoy the attention at all. Admittedly, I did. But I no longer feel that way about you."

Harry found himself fighting the urge to ask how Severus did feel about him. And he could have sworn in his raw moment of weakness that Snape could see it written clearly in his thoughts.

"I see how it takes its toll on you. I didn't before, but as I've said: I was blinded by something that goes far beyond you. With that being said, I believe we have both made errors in regards to our judgement of one another. Can you agree?"

Harry could, easily. Snape appeared different to him now. He'd kept his secrets, he'd looked out for him the way he'd always looked out for him. Harry trusted the man in front of him now, and there was something serene and severe about it all at once. Severus Snape had become an important person in Harry's life, or rather, Harry was finally starting to see him credit for that.

"I was blinded by my lack of trust in you, I'm not anymore- I understand now. After everything, I never got to thank you-"

"Don't thank me, Harry."

Severus regretted speaking so harsh and so cold as soon as the words left his lips, but if Harry had known what he was responsible for, he wouldn't thank him. He wouldn't thank him for killing his parents, he wouldn't thank him for anything. Severus didn't want thanks from Harry when he didn't know the whole of it. This wasn't for Harry's thanks, it was to make himself feel better. But somewhere down the line he had begun to care for the man in front of him.

And that was where things were becoming hazy.

Harry had just opened his mouth to say something that looked important, judging by the cautious, torn expression on his face, but the moment he started his face contorted sharply with pain and his hands flew to the lightening bolt scar sharply cut into his forehead.

Severus felt it too. It was more severe than it usually was. He knew what that meant.

The Dark Lord would not accept his absence.

"Harry, Harry- are you alright?"

Harry was clutching his scar, but he'd raised his eyes to survey Severus through his glasses. "You can't go- something isn't right."

Severus furrowed his eyebrows and ran a hand over his jar. His arm seared again, painfully so, and he knew he had no choice.

"I must excuse myself, but take this-" Severus opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small bottle if what appeared to be a sleeping draught, "I brewed this one myself, it should work for you."

"I don't want the fucking sleeping draught, I want to be awake so I know your bloody alive when you get back, something isn't right- just listen to me-"

"Out, Potter. Now."

Severus got to his feet, and waited, unwavering, for Harry to get to his feet, take the bottle and turn for the door.

He was already grabbing a handful of powder to floo up to Dumbledore's office and didn't give a second thought to the idea that Harry Potter cared about his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I am aware that you can't floo or apparate on Hogwarts grounds, but seeing as Dumbledore is in charge of the wards for that and Snape is his most trusted man, I imagine they'd have something worked out so that Snape could get to his office immediately if need be.


	22. In Which Harry is Strangely Awarded House Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, I know I don't really update quite often, I was good about it for a while but to be honest with you, I transferred this story from another site and well, up until this chapter, everything posted here is stuff I already had written. 
> 
> I have a job, an internship, and a full course load at college, I apologize that I cannot keep up with posting chapters or get them out when I want them to. This was only going to be a quick ten chapter story, but some really good advice and feedback made me turn it into something long. 
> 
> Just bear with me, it will take a long fucking time, but I will get it done eventually.
> 
> I love all your comments and kudos, I'm going to be replying as soon as I can! Give me some ideas, tell me what you like, don't like, what you want to see and what you don't like to see in stories like this, I want to deliver! Help me do that! ;)
> 
> Happy reading. The ending here is a bit rushed but it's quite a long chapter, I hope you enjoy it.

Snape stepped gracefully into Dumbledore’s office and found himself behind the chair he normally would have sat in, hands braced against the back of it, eyes glued to Dumbledore’s piercingly blue ones, “I’ve been summoned, Headmaster.”

The words sounded colder and crueler than he had wanted them to, but it had been a blissful few months without a summoning that felt as severe and urgent as this one felt. He’d seen it in Harry’s eyes, in his pain, the urgency with which the Dark Lord was summoning his followers was written all over the stubborn boy's face (or was it man's face, now?) …it worried him, far more than he dared let Harry know.

But the Headmaster was different, the Headmaster would know just how Snape felt about his most recent summoning, as well as how he felt about continuing to play the tortured, evil middle-man. He didn’t want it to be like this. Not anymore, he was sure he’d made amends, or rather, he wanted to continue making them the same way he had been thus far with Mr. Potter. 

Through their nights together, training him, preparing him for what he would eventually face, when all this insanity reared it final ugly head.

They had, in some strange way, come to trust one another. Feel some sort of attract—

He wanted to continue his work with Mr. Potter, without the Dark Lord’s hold over him, without Dumbledore's hold over him, without having to bounce back and forth and play this hot and cold game that could only end with a betrayal, one way or the other, one that would get him killed if he chose wrongly…

“I don’t want to, Albus, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Albus Dumbledore peered over the rim of his bespectacled eyes and bridged his fingers in a way that gave Severus the impression he had full capability of backing out of his long-standing agreement. It was a look meant to be assuring, but Snape had been down this road so many times before.

He knew what was coming.

“Severus, you’ve known from the beginning how important you are to this, but, if you truly feel as if your contribution has run its course—“ 

And at that, Severus knew there was no choice, despite the fact that Albus always had this manipulative way of making it seem as if there was a choice. He'd always been able to guilt Severus back to work with the impeccable flair of someone who had been doing it for as long as Harry Potter had been alive.

“I suppose I’ll speak to you in the morning,” Severus stated in his well-practiced monotone before he turned to the fireplace again and reached for a handful of Floo powder.

“Alas, Severus, the choices you’ve made will only further our cause—“

“Enough, Albus, I’ve had enough. My choice is not made on your behalf.”

At that, Severus dropped his powder into the fireplace before he clearly presented his destination to the same Floo Network that led Mr. Potter to Knockturn Alley. The same Floo Network the ministry had eyes on, the same network that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters planned to have control over at some point in the near future…”Malfoy Manor.”

His decision was for Harry Potter, and Harry Potter alone.

As he stepped from the fireplace into the dark, cruel coldness that suffocated the entirety of Malfoy Manor, Snape took in his surroundings without so much as a glance around the room. He could feel the Dark Lord’s presence, could feel the sting of his Dark Mark as it writhed on his arm, only calmed by the quiet tones of malice that he was prepared to face from every corner of the room. 

“Severus, finally. I was not so certain you would make it…”

That was no matter now, he was here and had to prepare his mind for the onslaught that was sure to come—

And come it did, images flashed through his mind, but only the ones he left free for the Dark Lord to see, the ones that he and Albus had agreed on in their meeting earlier this week, should this very moment come. It was a ritual, in case Severus was summoned, there were conversations that had to be had, conversations that would provide just enough information to the Dark Lord to prove he was dedicated, as dedicated a servant as ever.

Enough to prove to the Dark Lord that he wasn't hiding anything.

It was a manipulated sort of legilimency that Harry Potter would never come to understand.

And yet, a part of him wanted to explain to Harry Potter just how it could be done, should he need it--or him in the near future.

“Come sit, Severus, come sit.”

He obeyed the order immediately, aware that every eye in the room was a jealous one; they were all waiting for the moment they could thrust a knife into his back and twist. His position was coveted, the Dark Lord’s right hand man. Lucius Malfoy, the fool that he was, had lost his seating and was a few chairs down from him now, the embarrassment at the Ministry a year prior had been enough to demote him, as well as sacrifice his own son to the cause that had surely ruined Lucius's life as it stood.

Something about his seat did not feel right, it felt platonic and short-lived. In fact, while he’d never wanted the seat back again after having been free from it at one point, he most certainly didn’t want to be sitting there now, not when he had seen Harry's face, had seen the panic, the pain, and the worry.

He understood he was key to defeating the Dark Lord, to providing information back and forth to the benefit of Albus Dumbledore and the Order in its entirety—but he was growing exhausted, and the ever-present thought of Harry in the back of his mind was not helping.

The meeting was a droll affair. One that Severus could feel laced with a toxic poison the Dark Lord was emanating himself—there was something even crueler and colder in the air tonight, and Severus could not shake the feeling that it had nothing to do with what was being said.

You can’t go, something isn’t right.  
Harry’s words were haunting him now.

They went over the same mundane points and plotted the same schemes and remarked on meager progress, each seemed to aggravate the Dark Lord ever further until finally he raised a long, slender, pasty hand, drenched in a black cloak that held nothing but shadows.

The room silenced immediately.

“I’ve heard enough. The next time I summon all of you, if I don’t see further gain for our cause there will be severe consequences for each and every one of you. Go.”

At that, everyone pushed back their chairs collectively and move to sweep as swiftly as possible from the room—

“Not you, Severus, remain.”

That was what they were all trying to avoid, the potential possibility that they would be the one the Dark Lord would ask to stay behind. Usually, the ones he asked to stay behind were in for something sinister.

Severus did not reclaim his seat, he stood, ready to receive his punishment.

“You have been frequently absent as of late, Severus.”

“My Lord?” He inquired, unsure what the Dark Lord meant. He had been in attendance for nearly every meeting since the start of term, more present than he usually was, even.

“I don’t mean your physical attendance. You are here, yes, but you are not here. I fear there is something you aren’t telling me.”

Severus chose his next words carefully, “To keep any information undisclosed would be a great crime against you, my Lord.”

“That is neither admittance, nor denial.”

Severus chose to stay silent.

“The Malfoy boy came to me earlier.”

He clenched his hands under the table hard enough to feel the sting of his nails as they dug into his skin.

“He claims you are spending time alone with Potter almost daily and believes you are up to something.”

“Detention, my Lord, the boy is an insufferable—“

“Lie,” and at that, Severus was thrown backwards and into a large, antique cabinet full of china that merged explosively together and shattered over Severus as he hit the ground. “Crucio.”

He'd come to expect it, but that never made the pain hurt any less, witches and wizards alike had been driven mad under the relentless, excruciating pain that was brought with the Cruciatus curse, the Longbottoms, namely. Severus still wished to this day that the Dark Lord had simply killed the Neville and left Lily alone--and he knew that was the source of his contempt for the boy, as unfounded as it was.

While Potter thought this was a horribly serious and terrible affair, it was merely one hours meeting in the life of Severus Snape, an hour that would have him in crippling pain as he apparated back to Hogsmeade and limped his way across the grounds.

Limped his way through the castle, up the stairs.

Limped his way into Dumbledore's office.

Just so he could relay everything that had happened, every moment in which the Dark Lord cursed him in order to draw the truth, a truth that he would never give and could only pretend to know.  
It wasn't until quite late in the evening, somewhere in the realm of three o'clock that he was back in his office.

As he felt his way towards his desk, grabbing hold of every solid surface in arms length, Severus got the feeling that he was not entirely alone, and it wasn't until he went to reach for the back of the chair across from his desk in the office that he found the very person haunting his space.

"Potter--"

"You're alright?" Harry breathed, groggily through his sleep. His invisibility cloak had slipped off of him when Severus had accidentally gotten hold of it, "I wasn't sure--I didn't know what--"

And as Harry rubbed sleep from his eyes Severus grabbed the front of his robes and used the last of his strength to tug the boy closer, "You can't do this, Potter. You can't just break the rules and camp out in my office. You have an absolute disregard for everything, especially rules that are put in place to keep you safe. There's a lot at work here, and it is not just what you see before your narrow-minded, dim-witted eyes. I have a job to do, as do you, and you cannot just plant yourself here expecting answers. How much will it take for you to learn that not everything is for you to know or get your hands on? What would you do if I stumbled in half-dead?" Severus waited not a moment before speaking again, "Nothing, you would do nothing because you know nothing of what to do or how to do it. You are still a child, Potter, and your concern is a meager thing in comparison."

But Merlin's fucking beard, Harry's concern was all that Snape could think about, gritting his teeth while he scolded Harry, all he could truly appreciate was the fact that the boy had snuck back into his office with his invisibility cloak and camped out for hours waiting for his return.

The front of his robes were still tangled in Snape's elegant grasp, but he said nothing.

He met Snape's eyes just as hard and cold and cruel as Snape's met his own, "My concern may be 'meager' but it's still there. Your sleeping potion didn't work and making sure you were alive was just one thing I wanted to be sure of so as not to be kept up all night," Harry's words were scathing, confused, and annoyed. He didn't understand why Snape was being such a prick, what he'd done hadn't been that terrible, but the way Snape made it sound made Harry feel as if he should be shipped off to Azkaban, and that wasn't fair.

Harry reached up with a firm hand, wrapped it around Snape's, and pulled it off of the front of his robes," I supposed I'll be getting to bed then," he muttered bitterly and began to turn away, though, just as he did, Snape's balance began to falter and Harry reached to steady him, strong armed, lean, and reliable.

And Snape realized for the first time how athletic Potter was, how quidditch had made him well-built and healthy again, despite skipped meals.

Snape wouldn't ask Potter for help, but it appeared he didn't need to, as Potter had already begun to lead him wordlessly to the door in the back of his office that led to his chambers, chambers that he had never once had a student in before, "This is fine, Potter, I can make it from here."

Harry didn't bother to argue, merely stepped out from under Snape's arm and pursed his lips before he turned away wordlessly.

"And Potter," Harry stopped and turned to look over his shoulder as Snape was halfway in his room and half still in his office, "Ten points to Gryffindor. Detention tomorrow."

Harry let out a laugh as he left and it was the best sound Severus had heard all night.


	23. In Which the Author is Imbibed on Red Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a right long while, hasn't it?!
> 
> I wouldn't say I'm back, necessarily, just inspired. I know, I know! I'm the worst.
> 
> Happy reading, ya'll! Usual disclaimers apply.

* * *

 

 

As ridiculous as the notion was--Harry was pretty sure he was looking forward to detention.

He didn't dare speak it to Ron or Hermione, who would undoubtedly think him insane, though he was sure they noticed that he was in...higher spirits compared to how he'd been for the past few weeks.

It was a bit insane, he had to admit. For...Severus Snape's company to be at the root of his happiness. He knew it would be a true detention, more or less another lesson--or, well, maybe Severus would be too weak for that, still. Maybe they'd just get to sit. Maybe Severus would tell him more about the meeting, about what he'd felt and seen in the pieces of his nightmares. Ah, but then, he'd have to admit that, where it concerned Severus, he didn't work as hard at closing his mind. A part of him, a very minuscule, unashamed part, didn't care. Let Snape know. If he knew, then...Harry could know--

_Oh'fer fuck sake, Potter, pull it together._

Harry smiled to himself at that and tried to shake the thoughts from his head. It was detention, with _Snape_. 

Right. With Snape.

"Harry, Professor Snape is looking at you," Hermione pointed out casually as she cut and speared a piece of sausage, "He has been for a while now."

"Migh'be 'cuz'e smilin' to 'imself like a loon--" Ron added helpfully, his words garbled through a mouthful of food that he began to choke on a bit.

"That's what you get, then, I've been telling you not to talk with your mouth full--" Hermione started through a mouthful (albeit, a much smaller pleasant one) of her own food. She too, began to choke and dropped her silverware to tap her chest. Ron, ever helpful as of late, reached out to whack her on the back as the pair of them choked together.

Harry was in a near fit of tears as the pair of them choked and laughed across the table from him. It was a good laugh, a full, hearty laughter that made him feel warmth in the pit of his stomach, warmth all the way up in his chest. He felt  _full_. It was nice to be like this with Ron and Hermione, it was good to feel like he had his best mates back.

Like they had him back, more like. 

Harry chanced a glance at the Professor's table, laughter still written on his face and, true to Hermione's word, made eye contact with Professor Snape.

Was it just him, or was there a pleased twinkle in his eye?

Harry winked.

Oh fuck.

_Did I just..._

He had.

_Why in the fucking realm..._

He had been feeling cheeky, giddy because of Ron and Hermione, confident because Snape had been looking at him "for a while" and he hadn't caved once.

When he looked back at the high table, Professor Snape was sipping idly from a goblet and Harry noticed a most unusual thing.

There was  _color_ , a  _blush_ on Severus Snape's prominent cheekbones.

He didn't have much time to think about what that meant, as Hermione was rushing them to finish up so they could hurry to Potions because she had to re-read her essay for a seventh time and make sure there were no grammatical errors. Harry didn't mind, he wasn't going to be able to eat much more anyway, not with the way his stomach was doing all sorts of flips and turns. He had winked at Professor Snape and...Professor Snape had...blushed?

They were the first ones to class and Hermione immediately shushed the both so as not to disturb her concentration. Harry considered looking over his own essay but, instead, ground the heels of his palms against either of his temples. There must be something wrong with him. Thinking about Snape like this, of...of all people.

He was a greasy, slimy git and--well. If Harry thought about it, as of late, Snape wasn't so greasy anymore, nor slimy. He was sometimes still a git, but really, he'd been kinder recently. Their work had progressed and Harry had developed a genuine respect for the man. He was sure Snape had developed a sort of respect for him, too. Maybe respect was too strong a word, but an understanding, at least. One that left Harry craving his attention, his approval, of sorts. He had no one else to crave it from, after all.

Yeah, that was it. He was just looking for someone's approval. Someone to tell him he was doing a good job, as it wasn't something he heard...ever, really.

_Right, yeah. So, pull it together, man._

He sighed audibly and earned a scathing look from Hermione. Harry held up his hands in surrender and she rolled her eyes, rolling her parchment length into a tight scroll at last. "You know, it really is a good thing that you two are able to take this class. I might not always be around in the future to make all the potions we're probably going to need after--"

"Wha--Hermione! Why would you even say something like that?" Harry sputtered as Ron looked back and forth between the pair of them wordlessly.

"I'm sorry, I know that was tactless--but, just, it's true! Who knows what could happen between now and when we graduate, right? I might not always be here, or...or Ron, or Snape or You, even! Anything could happen to any one of us, Harry. I just want you both to be prepared for it. You're both extremely capable wizards, I just wish you'd put some more effort in sometimes, and, if there was ever a time to start, it would be this year. We're learning more serious magic, more really important skills--have either of you even tried to cast a non-verbal spell outside of class? Do either of you even use magic outside of class? I mean, of course, Harry, you've been working with Snape, I understand that, but this--" she gestured to the classroom around them, "--is really quite important, too." 

Harry couldn't deny it, she had a point. He absolutely hated to admit that she had a point, because that meant that something else was very likely to happen. And that "something else" would, very likely, be all his fault. Ron looked back and forth between Hermione and Harry again, as if it would encourage one of them to speak.

"Mate, listen--don't explode, I'm sure she--" Ron started slowly, carefully, like he was tiptoeing in order not to wake the beast.

"No, Ron, it's alright, really. It does make sense, as much as I hate to admit it," Harry shrugged his shoulders and gave them both a wary smile. Ron looked like he might topple over, Hermione looked relieved. He took both their reactions as a sign that he really needed to stop flying off the handle. It wasn't fair to them, "Anything could happen, anyone could get hurt or...or be killed. It's why I don't think either of you should come with me when I go." 

"Oh, piss off, Harry!" Ron exclaimed and threw his hands in the air, "That's bollocks, we're coming--"

"Of course we are! Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I don't want to hear another word about it, either. We've had plenty of time to leave you and we haven't. This is as much for you as it is for us."

Harry didn't say anything, he couldn't, really. He felt as if he might burst--and not with anger. He wanted to throw his arms around both of them, he wanted to take their support and their pride in stride and run with it. After everything he'd done, after everything he'd said to them, all the people he'd hurt...Ron and Hermione were still so steadfast by his side, ready to help him shoulder all his burdens.

"Well, thanks, then. I don't think I could do it without either of you," he admitted in earnest, earning a tearful smile from Hermione and a clap on the back from Ron.

"Oi, speaking of, mate, Ginny and Luna--Neville too, actually, were asking 'round about Dumbledore's Army. They want to get meetings going again--" Ron started and Harry couldn't help but notice that Hermione gave Ron a hard glare, then.

"They do?" Harry asked incredulously, and now it was his turn to look back and forth between Ron and Hermione.

Hermione gave a shrug of her shoulders and nodded, "I mean, of course they do, Harry--D.A meetings were the only thing we all had last year to keep ourselves going. It was more than just what we were learning, it was also that--"

"We were all together, all the houses--everyone was together and everyone was a part of something so big," Ron finished and Hermione nodded in agreement, a doe-eyed look in her eyes that Harry tried hard not to raise an eyebrow at. Part of him was curious as to what books Ron had been reading from lately. 

A few people had started filing into the classroom, and Harry gave them both a smile to let them know he appreciated what they'd said and that they would pick up the conversation later when they were alone. 

Another potions class, another saved by the Half-Blood Prince. He'd been able to completely fix the "mistake" potion Slughorn had set in front of him, and he'd done it quicker even, than Hermione, who he could tell was a little bit miffed at his recent improvement in potions. He felt bad that she was stuck working so hard--but it was good he'd found this book, if it gave him an edge, wouldn't that be a good thing for them in the future?

"I'm not sure about that book, Harry--" Hermione started in as they packed up their things to go.

"Oh, leave it be, 'Mione," Ron muttered and Harry readily agreed before shoving it in his bag. She sighed but didn't press it any further. 

"I'm off, I'll see you for lunch!" She called out over her shoulder and spun away to her next class while Ron and Harry lagged in the corridor, trying to debate what they should do to kill time. 

"We could go down to the pitch--" Ron started slowly.

"It'll take too long," Harry reminded him, as they'd tried to utilize the empty pitch on their break once before and ended up being a half hour late to transfiguration and lost 30 points (one for each minute they were late).

"How about we go visit Hagrid, then?" Ron suggested with more sincerity.

"Y'know, yeah, let's go see Hagrid, you reckon he's still angry with us for dropping his class?" Harry wondered aloud as they made their way outside to cross the grounds and take the lofty, winding path down to Hagrid's hut. 

"Nah, I reckon he's moved on," Ron assured him confidently--though Harry didn't know when Ron had ever really been good about reading everyone's emotions. Harry tried to take Ron's confidence in stride. Only, he didn't get a chance because as they approached Hagrid's Hut, they could see Hagrid wasn't in. His curtains were drawn, the lights were all off, and the door was locked when the tried the handle.

"That's weird," Harry muttered and turned his gaze towards the forest, "You think he's in there?"

Ron shrugged, "Don't care if 'e is, I'm not going in," and he gave a shudder, no doubt remembering that Aragog and his clan lived in the forest. Harry let out a laugh, "Best head back anyway, took us long enough to get down here."

The walk back to the castle took longer, the uphill battle had them both drawing heavy breaths, "Y'know, Harry, it's been a while since I've seen you like this."

"What do you mean?"

"You're just--" Ron mulled over his choice of words as they reached the top of the hill, "I dunno if happy is the right word, but you just seem lighter today. It's really, really great," Ron admitted in earnest and gave Harry a nudge with his elbow.

Harry grinned and gave a shrug, "Things have been really hard this year. And this summer was...there was a lot that I didn't know how to handle. But it's getting easier, meeting with Snape, having you guys--" Harry gripped the strap of his shoulder bag and started walking slowly again, back towards the castle, "Having you guys has really helped. I still need time but--I know I can go to you and Hermione if I need to. That in itself is more than enough." Harry finished, a genuine note to his voice that really seemed to resonate with Ron in one of their rare moments of affectionate friendship.

"Now, if you could just remember all that you said and say it to Hermione so she can have a good happy cry, yeah?" Ron joked as they pushed through the front doors together and made their way to Charms.

And this period, he gave a real effort at casting nonverbal spells. Ron muttered the incantations under his breath, but Harry had actually managed to case a few successful Charms, much to Hermione's delight. The extra practice with Snape really was helping, he found. He had more focus, more determination. Despite the still occasional spite from Snape (like last night), there was a softness to it now, and Harry couldn't help but appreciate that.

As they packed up again and made a beeline for the Great Hall to have lunch, Harry gave Hermione's bag a tug and she lagged behind as Ron took the hint to keep moving, he gave Harry a massive grin and a two-thumbs-up.

"So, I had a talk with, Ron earlier," He started casually, his hands shoved into the pocket of his robes.

"Did you, now?" Hermione wondered curiously, a clear shade of confusion on her face.

"I mean, yeah that is what friends usually do, but--" he waved the words off, "--but, I mean. I just...I really wanted to thank you. It's been really hard on me lately, y'know just...everything. But you and him have made it easier for me to handle things. You've really kept me going, even when I'm a right arse about everything. So just, thank you. Truly. Thank you for being my best friend. And I'm really sorry for snapping at you and flipping out all the time, too," Harry added with a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his messy hair.

Hermione looked as if she was about to burst out crying and, instead, threw his arms around Harry's neck with a sob, "I'm so glad to hear that, Harry! I've felt like you hated us--and today's just been really nice and, oh, Merlin, look what you've done!" She teased as she pulled away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, "Thank you for that, Harry. Let's get to lunch before Ron wonder's whether I've chewed you out," she looped her arm through his and they made their way into the Great Hall after Ron who was, in fact, turning his head on a swivel where he sat scoping them out. Harry made to give him a wave, but his view was suddenly blocked.

By none other than Draco-Ferret-Fucking-Malfoy and his lackeys on their way out the door.

"Have you and the mudblood finally got it on, then?" He snarled, pointing at their looped arms, "I always thought it was only a matter of time--"

"Piss off, Malfoy, I'm not in the mood, take your lackeys elsewhere," Harry groaned, earning a callous laugh from the blonde.

"Not in the mood? Funny, I'm not in the mood for mudbloods to exist but, well, here we are," he swept his arm out over the entirety of the Great Hall, a listless sigh on his lips. Harry moved to step forward but Hermione stepped in the way and shook her head as if to say it wasn't worth it. Harry scowled and made to walk away just as Goyle reached out and gave Hermione a sharp shove from behind and Pansy Parkinson stuck out her foot and sent Hermione flying. Harry's wand was drawn faster than anyone could blink, Pansy was frozen stock still, Goyle was flat on his ass, moaning in pain and Harry had his wand stuck right between Malfoy's eyes.

"Say another fucking word, I dare you, Malfoy, try it--I told you, I wasn't in the mood," Harry baited him. Malfoy made a move to reach for his own wand, but Harry jabbed the point between his eyes, "Don't. Even. Try. It."

And for just a second longer, Harry basked in the sheer fear on Malfoy's face. Just a second longer, though, because in the next, he felt a sharp hand gripping the neck of his robes. The last sight he saw as he was pulled from the Great Hall was Ron helping a sore Hermione to her feet and their eyes following after him worriedly.

 

* * *

 

 It took him only moments to realized who it was dragging him from the Great Hall and away from the crowd of students.

"Alright, Professor Snape, I get it, I'm coming, no need to drag me--" he struggled and reached around to try and pull the slender fingers from their grip on his hood, "C'mon, I know, I fucked up, let me--" and Snape released his grip, unfortunately Harry was off balance and spun away clumsily, gripping at the stone wall for balance. Harry was glad to see that no one was around to witness it. No one but Snape, anyway.

There was a moment of silence, long and painfully grueling in which Harry was ready to beg for Snape to say something.

"And what, pray tell, was that about?" Harry could have received worse than that, he took it as a blessing.

"Honestly, Severus--" he sighed and dropped his shoulders, found his fingertips running through his hair, "He came out of nowhere and maybe I shouldn't have reacted like--"

"Maybe?"

"I shouldn't have, fine, I know--but he kept, he was calling Hermione a... _mudblood_ , and then Goyle shoved her and Pansy tripped her and I just--"

"You reacted. Very quickly, I might add. Quicker even, than you usually are. And, rather than hurt Mr. Goyle or Ms. Parkinson--they were merely stunned. You reacted quicker than usual and you were more controlled than usual. I'm impressed," Snape's words were cool, but not condescending. He crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed Harry casually. 

Harry hadn't been expecting that, "I--yeah."

Snape gestured with his chin towards the length of the corridor and Harry took that as a sign to continue walking, "Since I've already given you detention for today, I suppose we'll just make it an extra hour."

His chest felt warm, his stomach was turning, and Harry found that he would have preferred an extra two, if possible, "As you say, Sir," he pretended not to notice the hitch in Snape's step at his words and instead focused on the fluid motion of his own steps, tried to ignore the pounding of his heart.

"It was refreshing to see you so..." Snape couldn't seem to find the word. Was it so hard for the people around him to say that he was  _happy_?

 He had to admit, even the thought sounded foreign and far-fetched, "Carefree? Happy-ish?" he offered up in earnest.

"Precisely, yes. Why the sudden change?"

Harry thought about this as they walked, he really thought about it. "I'm not...entirely sure?" It was a question because he wasn't even sure about that.

"Are you asking me or telling me, Harry?" Snape wondered idly and turned to watch him closely. Harry felt his own face grow hot and flushed.

"I think, in part--working with, well, working with you has really helped me. I know it's only been two months but...I feel different about it all now. I feel like I'm learning and like I've really got someone on my side. And--" he held up a hand so Snape wouldn't cut him off, "I know I've got the Order, Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore and all that--but it's different with you. I feel like...you expected nothing of me. You thought I was hopeless, you were doing what you were told and I sort of proved you wrong. I changed your opinion of me from unfavorable to favorable-ish...and...you don't care what I am, just who I am. And it's no fucking secret that you know...a lot more about me than anyone else does so I don't have to hide everything always anymore," Harry shrugged and chanced a look at Snape who was still watching him. Harry looked away almost immediately.

"No wink this time?" Snape intoned flatly, and Harry froze in place.

_Oh, Merlin._

"About that--" but Snape was chuckling before Harry could fumble over an explanation. Harry began to laugh himself, he couldn't help it. It was good to laugh like this with Snape, especially as the man braced himself against Harry's arm, no doubt still a bit weak from the night before. Once they'd both regained composure, Snape spoke:

"I don't need to know about what that was. Just...mind yourself, Harry. It's a dangerous thing we're doing. The meeting yesterday was a warning. I believe now we're being watched a little closer by Mr. Malfoy and we must play it safer. A wink across the dining hall is not  _safe_. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" The way Snape asked was not condescending, but kind.

"Essentially, I need to lay it on thick."

"Essentially, yes. You've always hated me, been an insufferable brat--I'm asking you to keep it up. Even worse, if you must. And that goes to say that I must do the same."

"You're warning me, aren't you? That things are going to get...awful?"

Snape pursed his lips and met Harry's eyes, and Harry realized he didn't feel quite so small under his piercing gaze anymore, "Yes, Harry. Class this afternoon is going to be..."

Harry sighed, "I understand." 

"You're disappointed?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

Snape smirked and shook his head, "There's the Potter I know. Shall we get back?"

Harry nodded and, upon entering the Great Hall, proceeded to lay it on thickly. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Let me know! I know this seems like a strange turn around for Harry but, don't worry, it won't last too long.


	24. In Which Harry Throws Caution to the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day. I've been drinking some red wine...that should explain it ;)
> 
> Happy reading everyone, usual disclaimers apply.

* * *

 

 

Snape's class had been a right nightmare. He'd lost about 50 points for his house, he'd snapped at Ron and Hermione for pestering him to "shake it off". He almost went at Malfoy again but, rather than give the little fuck the satisfaction, he hexed poor Neville a little bit harder than usual. And, well, by the end of the class, Harry realized he had lost the edge on his good mood, despite Snape's little "disclaimer", he really felt blindsided. 

And now he had to prepare himself to relive his worst memories, be hexed, berated, and belittled for a few hours on a relatively empty stomach?

Fantastic. 

"Stay behind, Potter," came Snape's bored drawl. Ron and Hermione shot him sympathetic looks, which he was grateful for but ignored and merely waved, trying to act like none of this had phased him. As Snape sealed the classroom door behind them, Harry sighed and dropped into the chair nearest Snape's desk.

"I know you said we had to be careful but--fuck," Harry muttered, wonder if Snape knew that he'd been so harsh, or if it was really that easy for him to turn it on and off. 

Snape raised a cool eyebrow and Harry wondered if he was in for it again already but instead, Snape dropped down into the seat next to Harry and crossed his arms over his chest . Harry was taken aback by the sudden closeness, "Mr. Malfoy had to approve so he'd pass the message along to his father. Surely, you understand that."

Harry nodded, "Are you going to give us all those points back? I think you took ten points because I successfully disarmed Neville too quickly. What was the word you used... _overzealous_?" Snape sighed at Harry's words and waved a hand.

"Very well, then, fifty points to Gryffindor for--"

"Do you really need a reason?"

"I presume you've never read Hogwarts: A History?"

Harry let out a laugh and shook his head, "You sound like Hermione," to which Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow, "She's always badgering Ron and I to read it, it's become a bit of a running joke--I assume you do need a reason, then?" Harry changed the subject mid-explanation before Snape thought he had the most peculiar sense of humor in the world.

Snape nodded but didn't say a word.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Potter, why?"

"I mean, after last night--"

Snape looked taken aback. He wasn't used to anyone asking about his well being, not so...genuinely.

"I'm fine, Harry."

"You're used to it, is what you mean."

"Partly, yes," it was strange, Severus thought, how easily disarming Harry Potter could be when they behaved casually. He was...easy to talk to.

Harry pursed his lips, "Hermione's been making a salve for me. Or, she used to make it for me before I left for the summer to ease my aches and pains during chores--" Harry rolled his eyes, to which Snape raised an eyebrow, "--I could bring it for you, I have plenty left. It's uh, what did she call it,  _Fomenta_ \--"

"I'm familiar, and I was potions master for 14 years, I can handle my own soothing salves. Quite advanced, however," Snape admitted and Harry tried his best not to balk.

Had Snape, Severus Snape, just complimented Hermione? After all these years, he'd never, not once, said anything even remotely kind. The kindest thing Snape had ever said was probably something about her being an insufferable know it all. Harry would have to pass along the message.

"I am curious, though, Harry--have you not yet told them about the abuse?"

Harry cringed and unconsciously shifted away from Snape and crossed his arms tighter over his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but found that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. No, he hadn't told them. But he didn't have a real reason why, did he? He trusted Ron and Hermione--and he'd do anything for them. But he was ashamed. Embarrassed. Couldn't bear the look on Ron's face if he were to tell him that his Uncle had been beating the living hell out of him his whole life and that he'd...

"I can't tell them," Harry muttered then, to save his thoughts from growing darker.

"Why? Surely, you can trust them. And they care about you. That much is clear," Snape pressed and almost magnetically, leaned forward to fill the space that Harry had taken.

Harry stood to put distance between them and sealed his mind as best as he knew how from what he was sure would be Snape's advances to further his quest for information, "I don't want to talk about this. It's my business."

"I thought we had moved past icing one another out?"

"You just berated me for an hour and forty-five minutes and made me feel so  _small_ and  _now_ you want me to spill my guts about...what my Uncle did?" Harry rounded on Snape incredulously, his temper getting the better of him for a second time that day, "That's ludicrous. You're out of your mind if you think I'm willingly going to talk about  _that_." 

_Of all bloody things._

Harry pulled his wand and stood in the front of the classroom expectantly, "Are we going to start, or?"

"No. We're going to talk. And eat. I stole most of your lunch and expect to have you here through dinner, the house elves are sending food up to my office shortly," at that, Snape stood himself and crossed the room to his office where he opened the door and looked expectantly at Harry to follow him. 

Harry hesitated, "I'm not--I don't think I'm hungry, Professor," it was a lie, but if Snape was planning on them having some terribly deep conversation all night, the last thing he was going to do was eat, lest he throw up all over the man's pristine office.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him and sighed, "Why did you just lie to me, Harry?"

"You're acting as if this is a new occurrence--"

"And you're acting like a child. You said yourself before--"

"Forget what I said before. Can't we just get to work so I can go?"

"No."

Harry threw his hands up in the air and stalked into Snape's office before he dropped down into the chair closest to the door, as if he would be able to escape the moment Snape got distracted. 

Snape didn't say anything for a while, instead, he focused on setting the table for their meal, and this was such an unusual gesture to Harry that he almost leaned backwards in his chair. As if it were a trick.

"Is something the matter?" Snape inquired casually, as if Harry's behavior wasn't all that unusual.

"Why didn't you just use magic?"

"There is a novelty in doing some things by hand," Severus offered up, as if it were obvious. And it was, really. Harry just wasn't used to it.

"I could've done it, I didn't mean to--" Harry stepped forward, like he could rewind time and re-set the table.

"As I've said, Harry, I chose to do it because I wanted to. And surely I wouldn't ask you for dinner and then make you set the table."

Despite himself, Harry let out a cruel laugh and shook his head.

"What's so funny?"

"I cooked almost every meal for the Dursley's, I set every table and was hit if I accidentally flipped a knife around. I got to eat scraps from the garbage if I was lucky. Otherwise it was burnt toast. Maybe a glass of milk or water. And you wouldn't even ask me to set the table, when...in fact, it's the least I could do," It was the first time he'd said anything like that out loud. He was frustrated at himself for it, for giving in to Snape's persistence. But...on the other hand? It felt good, too. It felt liberating almost, for someone else to know. And he knew what Snape saw in his head, he knew the rawness of it, the realness of it. It just wasn't the same as expressing it aloud. It wasn't the same being able to say it with a certain vehemence or loathing.

Snape held a cloth napkin out to him, "Here. Fold this, then," Harry laughed truly at that, as Snape smirked and turned away to use the floo to signal to the kitchens that they were ready. Harry folded the napkin and set it atop the empty plate.

Harry couldn't possibly have known this, but, as Severus turned away, he grit his teeth and pursed his lips in such a firm line he wasn't sure if they would be able to part again. The  _fucking_ Dursley's. He had witnessed the cruelty at which Petunia could operate. He'd seen it with Lily, experienced it firsthand. It wasn't much more than bullying. But it still hurt, and such painful memories need not be brought back to life, not now. It was another thing, though, for Harry to have experienced bullying at Petunia's hand and physical abuse, physical pain at the hands of Vernon Dursley. As a  _child._ Harry Potter was still a child, though me might look like a man grown. He was a child, and he'd experience more than any adult around him. And to have done it under such duress...Severus pushed the thoughts from his mind and turned back around.

Harry chewed on his lip as Snape made his way back to the table and food appeared in front of them. He was starving, but Merlin, he was nervous, too.

Instead of waiting for Harry to take his time, Severus stood and served him first. Massive helpings of everything. From thin sliced turkey breast with all the trimmings, to mashed potatoes and extra vegetables, Harry was looking at a plate of food he hadn't been able to master in months. Be it nerves or just the fact that he wasn't used to eating so much, even with Mrs. Weasley pushing third-helpings on to his plate.

"Can I ask what else your Aunt and Uncle made you do?" Snape asked finally, after a long moment of silence while they both seemed to be pushing their food around.

Harry paused in flattening his mashed potatoes from a mountain into a field, "I dunno. Chores and stuff. Yard work, cleaning, laundry. And just...whatever," Harry shrugged his shoulders a clear tension spreading throughout him. 

"And your Uncle beat you. Did you Aunt ever hit you?"

"From time to time. It wasn't really her area, though. She'd much rather just tell Vernon," Harry set his fork down then and reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice for something to do, though each sip felt thick and forced.

"Harry, there are...things I've seen in your thoughts. More concerning--"

"I don't know what you think you saw, Professor. My Aunt and Uncle made me do chores and when I didn't do them correctly I was punished for it. That's it," Harry persisted and stood to clear their plates, oblivious to whether or not Snape was still eating. It wasn't until he turned and realized there was no where to clean the plates, that he gave up and set them back down, defeated, "I told you, I don't want to talk about this."

Snape had sat back and watched Harry's behavior the second after he'd asked his first question.

There was something Harry was hiding, something that, despite all that he had seen, Harry hadn't told him. There was something deep and dark that Snape didn't know. 

And Severus had to admit, it was really getting to him.

"Let's get to work, then."

Because it was easier to pry into Harry's mind than it was to try and pull the words out of him.

Harry, thankfully, was so focused on shutting Severus out, that the next couple of hours flew by, mainly with Snape asking more pressing questions while Harry avoided them almost effortlessly. 

He wasn't going to talk about every little detail. He wasn't going to let it consume him, not when he was so far removed from it.

 

"We're done for the night," Snape finally conceded, as Harry had doubled over with his hands braced on his knees in order to remain standing, "If you had that much determination last year--"

"Sirius would still be alive, I know," Harry spat, a knee jerk reaction he wasn't able to control when he was this exhausted.

"No, that wasn't what I was going to say."

"Can I go?"

"Why are you so angry?"

"Because you've been trying to pull my secrets out of me for three hours when I specifically told you--"

"Do you think the Dark Lord is going to let you--"

"THAT WASN'T WHAT THIS WAS ABOUT! YOU KNOW IT!" Harry shouted then and knocked the goblet of water out of Snape's hands as he offered it to him, "You've been  _searching_ for a specific memory, I know you have--just let it fucking drop! I told you what happened. That's all you get to know."

At that, Harry turned for the door and yanked the handle, only to fine it was still sealed, "Open it, let me out!"

Severus didn't say anything as Harry left.

He knew he'd pushed the boys limits and he knew that Harry was angry with him now. Maybe it was for the better.

 

* * *

 

 

 The next morning, Harry wanted nothing more than to skive off classes and just hang out on the pitch, or in the Room of Requirement but, instead of letting it all get to him, he forced himself to get out of bed. Forced himself to eat breakfast with the others and smile through it. Forced himself to put forth effort in Transfiguration and Potions. Forced himself not to punch Malfoy in his smug fucking ferret face.

By dinner, Harry was so fed up with forcing it that he excused himself just before they reached the Great Hall.

"You need to eat, mate," Ron encouraged.

"I just--I need some time to myself."

"Take as much time as you need," Hermione insisted and steered Ron away from battling with Harry any further. He shot her a thankful look before he began walking. And he didn't know where he was headed. Not towards Snape, certainly not to Snape who was trying to poke holes in things he'd tried very hard to forget. Instead, he found himself in the Astronomy tower. Far away from the rest of the world--he felt better here. It was easy to remove himself from everyone when he was so far away. 

He idly fiddled with a telescope still set up from the previous class. He perched himself on one of the window sills and thought about Snape. Who, no doubt, was going to be livid when he didn't show up for lessons but, Harry found that he really didn't care. He deserved a break from the intensity he was subject to in the presence of Severus Snape.

Harry let his eyes shut briefly and instead let himself think. He ran through the list of new spells he'd been taught. Practiced levitating the telescopes in the room non-verbally. Tried hard to clear his mind. By seven o'clock, an hour late for Snape's long-standing "detention", he felt relaxed enough to mosey his way back to Gryffindor tower.

He did his best to avoid heavy traffic areas, utilized his extensive knowledge of the Marauder's map and slipped in and out of secret passageways. It wasn't until he was outside the Gryffindor Common room that he finally felt safe. When he entered, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all turned to greet him. He could see concern in Hermione's eyes, frustration in Ron's, and curiosity in Ginny's, but he acted like he saw nothing. Like he was just happy for the company.

That was, at least, until he noticed Hedwig standing idly on the window sill. When he let her in, she dropped a scroll of parchment in his lap.

It was a hastily scrawled letter from Dumbledore.

                                  _Mr. Potter--_

_It's come to my attention that you've skipped your lessons with Professor Snape._

_I would appreciate it if you could join me tonight instead, at 9 o'clock? Meet me in the entrance hall._

_Warmly,_

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

 "Bloody hell, mate, a personal note from Dumbledore?" Ron started in before Hermione nudged him.

"Professor Dumbledore must have something important to speak with Harry about," she insisted, "He doesn't have enough time on his hands to merely scold Harry for skiving off Professor Snape's lessons one time!" She continued as Ron rolled his eyes at her. 

Harry sighed and sat back against the couch cushions, "What if I just didn't go?" He wondered out loud, "What if I just acted like I fell asleep and never saw it?"

"You can't do that!" Hermione insisted incredulously while Ron seemed indifferent.

"But why not? They've got no way of knowing," Ron added helpfully and tossed the letter into the fireplace with ease, "There, s'almost like he never saw it. If he never saw it, no reason for him to go." Ron flashed Harry a cheeky smile and wiggled his eyebrows, to which Harry gave a grateful laugh.

Harry watched the paper crinkle and burn slightly at the edges before catching flame and burning up entirely.

"It's a Friday, isn't it?" He wondered idly.

"It's a Friday," Ginny agreed and flipped another page in her catalog. 

 "So, none of us have to be up early tomorrow?"

"That's correct," Ginny continued and sat a little straighter, her curiosity getting the better of her, "Besides quidditch--"

"Fuck quidditch. Let's go to Hogsmeade. Let's get properly fucked."

"We can't!" Hermione squealed and looked to Ron for support, though he was already standing.

"I'm in--"

"Me as well," Ginny agreed.

"Brilliant--go get...Neville, and why don't we ask Seamus and Dean as well?"

"Harry--" Hermione whined and dropped her face into her hands before peeking up at him, "I know you're angry with Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore, but this is--"

"This is our first D.A meeting of the year," Harry insisted and got to his feet, "We're meeting in Hogsmeade."

Hermione sighed and stood as well while they waited for Neville, Seamus, and Dean, "This is idiotic," she muttered and looked to Ron for support. He merely shrugged.

"There's clearly something going on here that we're missing, 'Mione, let's just see it through. And I could really go for some Firewhiskey after this week." 

In Harry's opinion, it was one of the smarter things that Ron had ever said. 


	25. In Which They Find Themselves in a Pub Called Cloak & Dagger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Quite a few in the past two days, no?
> 
> Happy reading! Usual disclaimers apply.

* * *

 

 

It was risky, yes. And they'd never done anything like this before. Not on this scale--and not in the mindset that they were going to get "properly fucked". In the past, yes, they'd nipped at Firewhiskey (probably from Fred, George, and Lee) and pretended to be drunk. They'd had a butterbeer or two and giggled the whole way back to Hogwarts. 

Harry had never been drunk before. And this? Well, it was an utterly horrible idea, but he was all for it. Not to mention the fact that a few more people than initially planned had joined them in the Common Room, thanks to Seamus and his loud mouth. It felt  _good_. Good to be doing something reckless and unexpected, something appropriate for his age,  _for once_.

And yes, Voldemort could show up and kill the lot of them.

 _Fuck all_ , he didn't care. Not at that moment.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were currently holding a "meeting". They were standing up front, with Ginny, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Luna, Cormac McLaggen (who had come down just as Hermione had been expressing her grievances), Michael Corner, and Justin Finch-Fletchley standing before them. Luna had brought along Michael Corner (no doubt after Ginny had owled her), and Justin had tagged along after running into the other two in the corridor. This was, truly, much larger than Harry had originally planned. Much larger of a crew than he felt comfortable with, but, in the spirit of reckless abandonment--the more the merrier.

"If we get caught--" Hermione started as Cormac laughed and rolled his eyes.

"No, listen, she's right--the rules are stricter about being out after curfew this year. And...truly, it is more dangerous--"

'Are we going to get pissed or not?" Dean called out, almost defiantly, receiving cheers from the others.

"That's up to you, if we get caught, I don't know what the consequence will be. We could be banned from Hogsmeade, suspended from school, long-standing detention, expulsion--" Harry admitted with a shrug and trailed off slowly, waiting for all of them to let the potential consequences sink in.

"It's simple, then, isn't it? We just don't get caught," Luna added airily with a smile on her face. It was a smile that Harry almost found encouraging.

They could all use a bit of fun. And Harry knew, for sure, that he could, too.

"How are we doing this, then?" Cormac asked, rather haughty as if he had an idea.

"There's a secret passage through Honeydukes," Ginny added helpfully.

"Honeydukes closes soon, we'd better get moving," Ron interjected and nodded towards the portrait hole.

"Let me cast a disillusionment charm--" Hermione started and pulled her wand. Cormac pulled his own and got to work as well, at which Hermione raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. Ron's scowl was not lost on Harry but he kept his mouth shut as Hermione drew his wand over him, a time or two more than everyone else.

Once they were all disillusioned, Harry took the lead in exiting the Common Room, "We're not invisible with this, we just...blend into the background, if we come across someone, do your best to hide."

And, at that, they were off, almost at a jog. Surprisingly enough, they made it to the ghoul statue without any trouble and Harry slipped behind it last before sealing the entrance. The cheers that erupted afterward were almost deafening and the rest of their journey continued at a quick jog. The passageway, which usually seemed long and daunting, ended all too quickly, and now they were faced with another challenge entirely.

"I can take two at a time with the invisibility cloak--" Harry started as Hermione began to pull it from her bag.

"That'll take too long," Ginny protested, "If we just go, it'll be fine--"

"We'll get caught--"

"We need a distraction," Luna stated firmly.

"Well, if you've got any of those--" Cormac began with a roll of his eyes.

"Actually," Neville's voice was a shock to the rest of them, as he'd been fairly quiet, "Thanks to Fred and George--" and he pulled out instant darkness powder.

"Brilliant!" Ginny commented and grabbed a tiny vial from him. Dean and Neville gave him a clap on the back and jostled him with the excitement of the others.

Harry eased the trap door open and they all shuffled into the storage of Honeyduke's cellar. It sounded quiet up above, no doubt due to the store being near close. They all climbed the steps and waited by the door. A silent count to three--

The lot of them burst through, Neville and Ginny dropped their vials and instant darkness exploded around them as they shot towards the front door and the cool air nipped their skin. The shouts of shock behind them were lost as they broke free from the shop and took off at a run down the alley, laughing and cheering at their success.

Harry wasn't sure which one of them led the way, but they were tucked safely in an alley between shops quite soon after, and Hermione began to remove their disillusionment charms.

"I can't believe we just did that!" Lavender squealed once her charm was lifted, somehow, she and Ron had linked arms. Ron looked mildly uncomfortable, especially after Hermione paused and raised an eyebrow at him. Neither of them said a word, but the moment Harry and Ginny made eye contact, she rolled hers and let out a laugh only he could hear.

"Where are we going to go? Madam Rosmerta will know us by now--" Neville started.

"We could try the Hog's Head--" Justin intoned.

"No, neither, they'll know us," especially after Lupin had given him a warning about the D.A last year, Harry wasn't going to risk it, "On the outskirts of the village there are a few pubs. We should be fine there."

The rest of them nodded in agreement and, as they walked, broke up into smaller groups. Harry found himself stuck behind with Hermione, Ginny, and Cormac. He'd only stayed because Hermione balked at Cormac as he moved up alongside her and struck up a lame conversation. Ginny, too, had sidled up alongside him. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Are you worried about what Snape and Dumbledore are going to say to you tomorrow?" Ginny asked him curiously, her arms crossed casually over her chest.

Harry shrugged, "I know it won't be good, but I don't think I'm worried about it. I don't think I care, honestly," and that, surprisingly enough, was the truth. He didn't care. He didn't care at all what they were going to say to him. This was reckless, stupid, dangerous, immature--he was sixteen! Of course, it was! He was tired of having to...having to  _be_ the bloody  _Chosen One._ He hadn't asked for any of this. Not when he was eleven and facing Voldemort for the second time (the first he could remember). Not when he was 12, saving Ginny from the basilisk. Not when he was 14, watching Cedric die in the graveyard. Not when he was 15, watching Sirius fall through the veil and Voldemort battle Dumbledore--the only one he'd ever feared. The only to match his power.

He was six-fucking-teen. He couldn't match Voldemort's power. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to.

And so, he was going to take a god damn day off from all the training, all the guilt, all the responsibility.

This felt stupid. But it felt right.

"I'm just...Ginny, fuck, I'm so tired of it all," as soon as he said it he wished he could take it back. 

But her reaction was one of the things he loved most about Ginny, she was understanding. She didn't judge him, "Of course you are, anyone would be, Harry," she gave his elbow a pinch, "So, let's just enjoy the night and deal with the consequences in the morning.

Ginny took the initiative to link arms with Hermione then, "saving her" it seemed, from the persistence of Cormac McLaggen.

Harry walked just a little bit faster in order to get away from the awkward conversation about quidditch, about Ron making the team over him, and whatever else he continued on about that Harry couldn't hear from the distance he'd made. 

He noticed, after a few moments, that his wand had been out the entire time, that he was incredibly attentive and ready to strike with a spell at any moments notice. He had a silent order in his head,  _expelliarmus-stupefy-petrificus totalis-sectumsempra--_

"Harry, why is your wand at the ready?We're here, " Luna's voice startled him out of it and he immediately stuffed it under his cloak as he passed through the door.

It was fairly empty inside and, while Harry couldn't tell if that was worse or better for their situation, he went for it anyway and ordered everyone a round on him.

It wasn't much longer before they were all piss drunk, falling over one another and laughing at everything and nothing. For hours, Harry didn't think for a second about the scar on his forehead and what it meant, he didn't think about Snape or Dumbledore, he didn't think about his Uncle, he didn't think about anything but taking another shot and the people he was with.

"Harry!" Hermione cooed, her hair a bit of a mess and her cheeks tinged red as she dropped into the empty seat next to him. Ron wasn't far behind, having seemingly just detached himself from Lavender, "I feel like I haven't seen you all night!"

"You've both been busy with, well, I dunno," Harry felt numb, he could hardly feel the smile on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair, "This is good, isn't it?"

"Fuck yeah it's good, mate! This is brilliant, dunno why we never tried it sooner!" Ron's voice was loud and happy and made Harry feel immensely relieved, especially after Hermione nodded.

"We should be getting back soon, though--" Hermione started, Ron surprisingly agreed.

"Let's round everyone up, then," Harry insisted, moving to stand from his seat, only he couldn't quite get his footing and ended up falling back over into the booth and Ron fell with him while trying to help. Hermione fell too, laughter bubbling from her lips and drink spilling over the rim of the glass in her hand. A flash went off and they looked up to see Luna with a muggle camera (upside down), snapping photographs.

It was then that the door of the pub blew open and, standing at the door was none other than Severus Snape himself.

Harry made eye contact with Neville who was already fumbling in his pocket for one last instant darkness powder, "RUN!" Harry shouted to the others and, stayed rooted to the spot as they ran for any and all exits.

He had no problem taking the blame for this, after all, it had been all his idea. And he, after all, was the chosen one. They wouldn't expell him. Perhaps, they'd ban him from Hogsmeade--not that he had much time for it anyway. What else could they do? Threaten him with more detentions? Detentions he was already serving at the drop of Dumbledore's hat? Detentions he was already serving for Snape whenever he saw fit?

Harry couldn't face any other consequence that he wasn't already facing. He was the fucking chosen one. He felt he was owed something, considering he'd never _chosen_ this.

Snape had a vice-like grip on his upper arm before the darkness had lifted and Harry looked up at him expectantly.

"Kind of you to join me, Professor, fancy a drink?" He quipped cheekily as Snape's livid features raked over his own.

"Do you have any idea-"

"Frankly, I don't much care."

Snape let out a snarl but didn't push it any further as he dragged Harry through the door onto one of the sketchy side-streets of Hogsmeade. Harry made to step towards the main alley, but as he lifted his right foot, he was yanked back, harshly, in the opposite direction and lost his balance.

He slipped through Snape's grasp and fell with a sharp pang against his backbone, the cry that came from his lips was quick and hushed the moment he realized it had escaped. 

In that instant, reaction had set in, and Harry dragged his forearms across the ground in order to pull himself away from the towering shadow above him, "No, don't, I'm sorry,  _please_ , Uncle Vernon--"

It was a few moments before a hand closed gently around his wrist, and Harry realized then that he'd raised his arm in front of his face to block the blows he had been sure were coming next. His embarrassment propelled him forward and he yanked away in order to push himself to his feet, eyes wide and almost horror-stricken.  _What have I done?_ Harry berated himself internally and met Snape's eyes with a hard, cold glare.

The softness he met in Snape's own was disarming.

Harry found himself moving backward without reason. He found himself full of  _fear_ as he went, even more so as his shoulder blades collided with the solid brick wall and he realized there was no more room for him to cower.

" _Harry, stop_ ," Severus spoke gently, but his words were firm enough to halt Harry's rapid breathing, to pause the panic rising in his chest. 

"I...I'm sorry, I--I, well, I don't--"

" _Breathe, Harry_ ," Severus urged, and Harry didn't shy away as both the man's hands braced his shoulders and steadied the continued rise and fall of his chest.

The pair of them stood there like that for what felt like ages. Harry looked up and met Severus's eyes again as his breathing finally slowed to a natural pace. 

"We'll discuss this in the morning," Snape urged and grabbed Harry tightly by the upper arm just before he turned on his heel and apparated them both back to Hogwarts. 

Harry shoved away from him and wretched just after the spinning had stopped. He didn't have his wits about him to ask how Snape had been able to apparate onto Hogwarts grounds but, he assumed, Dumbledore had lifted the charms for Snape and Snape alone.

"Have you never been drunk before?" Snape questioned in earnest as he cast a charm to clean Harry up. They walked slowly and, after stumbling a few times, Snape held out an arm which Harry clung to gratefully. His answer was a stumbling slur of a sentence, one he couldn't slow down even if he wanted to. Harry was full of defense as the realization set in that he didn't want to face consequences. He didn't want to be in trouble for this, the one time he'd had the chance to act like a...a teenager.

"No, this was the first time, I've had sips of Firewhiskey before but--I dunno what happened tonight, I just...I wanted to do something unexpected and...something stupid that I wanted to do! I'm bloody fucking tired of all this training bullshit--have I ever had the chance to be a child? I know you probably think I'm just a whiny brat but...it's fucking bullshit and I didn't ask for this, I don't want this--my parents are dead, I suffered at the hands of an abusive aunt and uncle for years without knowing who I really was, I had to face Voldemort multiple times, lost friends and...the only man who could even pass as family along the way and then my uncle raped me like a pig for slaughter! Is getting drunk so bad in the grand scheme of thi--"

"What did you just say, Potter?"

The words were so venomous that Harry tried to pull out of his grasp.

"Wha--I didn't--"

"You just said your Uncle raped you--" Snape's tone was harsh and cruel, and Harry felt like he'd done something terribly wrong.

"No, no I didn't say that--"

"I just heard you say that he ' _raped you like a pig for slaughter_ '--"

"No. I didn't say that. I didn't mean that that wasn't--" He tried to recant it, tried to backtrack. And tried, painfully so, to remember what he'd said exactly because Snape had to be wrong! He'd never say that. He just...he wouldn't! "I lied."

"Don't you _dare_ ," Snape's words were venomous, and something in them told Harry that he couldn't get out of this so easily.

Harry knew he was drunk, he wasn't in full control of himself as he grappled desperately for his wand. He grabbed folds after folds of his cloak until he looked up to find that Snape was holding it.

"I'm not talking about anything with  _you_ ," Harry spat harshly and, finally, spun away, "I  _hate_ you! You always--why couldn't you just fucking let Quirrell finish it my first year? You don't owe me anything, you don't... _fuck you_ ," Harry hissed and shoved the man away from him as he stepped forward as if to help Harry keep his balance, "This is _your_ fucking fault! You could've just--you  _should've_ let me  _die_ , I'm not a hero, I'm no one's savior--I don't know why the fuck you or Dumbledore or  _anyone else_ thinks that I could...that I'm capable of beating Voldemort!"

"Potter--"

"Oh, right, it's Potter now! I'm so  _tired_ of this _shit_! I'm fucking done--I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS! I DON'T WANT THIS!" Sparks burst from Harry's wand and singed Snape's fingertips, causing Severus to nearly drop it. 

"Harry, then--" Severus started in, to which Harry burst out with a callous laugh and rolled his eyes, " _Enough._ " And Harry opened his mouth to speak but found that no words would come out. In fact, Harry found that he couldn't move at all, "I didn't ask to be your  _babysitter_ either," at that, Snape began to walk, and Harry found he had no choice but to follow after him in silence. When they arrived at the entrance Hall, Harry was in control of himself again and moved to head towards Gryffindor Common Room, but the Professor shook his head. 

Wordlessly, Harry followed along the familiar path to Snape's office.


	26. In Which the Author Makes a Strong Comeback With a Ton of New Chapters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that continue to stick by this story after months and months of no updates--thank you. It means the world to me to see that people are still reading. 
> 
> For those of you that are new to this story and binge-read until this point, I'm so sorry I'm not consistent!
> 
> That being said, I AM DESPERATE for feedback. I want ideas, criticism, etc. Am I doing Snape right? Is Harry too much of a little bitch? GIVE IT ALL TO ME! What would you like to see? 
> 
> I may have taken this one too far. I'm so sorry guys, Harry's about to be really messed up for a while and I think I mostly just want more angst and pain. It's awful, but I can't help it. 
> 
> Trigger warning for self-injury at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply.

Severus followed idly mute behind Harry as he stumbled through the dungeon. He did not--could not offer his assistance as the boy meandered about. Snape found himself far too lost in thought. Something in him was  _obsessed_ with what Harry had disclosed. There were a handful of routes he knew he should take. But there was one option he desired more than all of the rest. The largest part of him was desperate for more information and knew he could easily take advantage of Harry's lack of sobriety and, therefore, lack of control Harry had over his mind in his present state. If he attempted to use _Legilimens_ on Harry now, he would learn far more than he had ever been able to before.

There was another piece of him, however, that he realized was possessive. Protective. Enraged. Murderous. Snape couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way, only that he was fairly certain it involved a certain redheaded "Potter", as well. He would not abuse his closeness to the boy, would not abuse Harry's vulnerable state of mind. That would make him little better than the scum that had raped Harry in the first place.

 _Fool_ , he thought bitterly against himself with a sharp shake of his head and immediately pulled it together as Harry waited by the door into his office and its adjourning chambers. If Snape was honest--Harry looked positively terrified. Like he was about to be sick, but not the kind of sick that came from imbibing oneself on Firewhiskey that far surpassed one's limits. As Snape swept Harry into the classroom with a sweeping arm, he chanced a glance over his shoulder and caught sight of--

-nothing.

They were in the clear. 

With a flick of his wand, potions sailed across the room and landed gently on the table that Harry had perched himself against, "For the headache," Snape held up one and then the other, "Pepperup potion, for _obvious_ reasons," Harry drank both obediently and found himself feeling loads better than he had on their walk down to the dungeons. He buried his face in his hands and refused to meet Snape's eyes.

"Just let me go, Severus, please, I don't want to do this now," and the way his voice broke, as shattered as it sounded, Snape almost let him. Almost encouraged him to sleep for as long as he could and try to forget everything that had ever happened to him. But it would be irresponsible for Snape to let him go now, now that he knew for sure that, the things that he had only mildly suspected during their lessons, were true. Harry groaned once he realized there was no way out of this, no way around this, and shoved himself to his feet before he spun away with his arms crossed tightly around himself, "It's-- _humiliating_ , you know. I've never--I physically can't talk about it, I'm not telling you anything." Snape had to admit, Harry's stubborn resolve was admirable. Protecting his most painful secrets was something Snape realized then that he'd never given him credit for. And, now that he'd considered it, Harry's ability to occlude far surpassed the capabilities Snape had previously thought he'd had.

 Snape didn't say anything for a while, so long, in fact, that Harry turned half-way and finally, begrudgingly met the man's eyes, "I can't let you go back there, Harry. I will not."

Harry scoffed and waved him off with a hand, "The blood protection is far too important."

"Not more important than you, than protecting you from that vile, outrageously disgusting monster--"

" _Stop_ , I--just don't. I don't want to hear it. False promises. It always is," Harry muttered back as if this wasn't the first time he'd heard something like this.

"What?"

"Every summer it's the same thing. I'm supposed to stay with the Weasley's, someone will threaten him and keep him in check, I have to respond daily to my letters," Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, "It doesn't ever change. One final summer and then I'm off to kill or be killed by Voldemort. Honestly, I think the latter is more preferable,"  the bitter laugh that spewed from his lips was almost enough to have Snape snarling at such a stupid, small-minded, insolent statement, but when he saw the sheen of tears in Harry's eyes, he held his tongue in exchange for a more encouraging statement.

"Don't say things like that, Harry. You matter too much to too many people to think that way," Snape ran a hand over his face and sat in the armchair next to Harry.

"And to you?" Harry blurted suddenly.

"What?"

"Do I matter to you?" He felt stupid, he wished he hadn't asked but at this point, with what Snape knew about him now? He supposed it was among the least of his worries.

Snape was taken off guard, that much Harry could tell, despite how hard Snape appeared to be trying to play it off.

"Harry-" Snape hesitated and Harry couldn't help but scoff.

"I figured, how could I matter to you? Forget it-" Harry began to push himself to his feet and turned for the door, the sting of rejection already fresh on his face. He needed to get out of there.

His first step was met with resistance, and Harry realized it was because his hand was caught. Or rather, being held by Severus Snape, "If you ask a heavy question like that, you need to give me some time to formulate an appropriate answer," Snape mused and, once it became clear that Harry wasn't going to bolt, he let go of his hand and ran a hand over his jaw where a gentle layer of stubble cast a shadow across his face. He could tell Harry was waiting with baited breath and didn't want to prolong it, "After all this time, Harry, yes. Of course, you matter to me," Snape started and met the boy's shocked eyes with a gentle smile on his lips, tugging just one corner of his mouth upwards, "I had no notion it would happen. Fought it, the entire way, mind you. I think we've come to know more about one another than we ever tried to before or...ever presumed we would. Circumstances are markedly different. I'm...glad that they are."

Harry noticed the hesitation in Snape's words as if he wasn't sure if he should or shouldn't be saying these things. Harry was beyond grateful that he had, "I...care about you, too. The night-you know which one. I was...panicked, I thought-the worst. I wasn't sure what I would do without you-I don't know," Harry shook his head and covered his face with his hands until a movement in the room startled him and he realized that Snape was standing and reaching to lower his arms.

"I've got to do something about your Uncle, Harry. I can't let this go on. I won't-" 

Before Snape could finish what Harry felt was going to be a passionate declaration of protection, he looked up, being that Snape was much taller than he, and pulled the man forward with force from the front of his robes. Harry pressed his lips against Snape's with the determination of a seeker trying to catch the snitch. Despite the pepperup potion, Harry was sure the buzz of Firewhiskey was still burning through his system, giving him a new sort of bold confidence. Reckless. Impulsive. He let his lips still for a moment against Snape's, tempting the other to push him away. When he didn't, Harry parted his lips, angled his head to the side so his and Snape's noses touched only slightly, and their lips melded together more like puzzle pieces than anything else.

Snape's mouth was surprisingly cool. Not warm and too wet, but refreshing. Inviting. Their lips were soft and moved against one another like waves over sand, pointed and effortless. Harry, with shock to himself, let his tongue explore the other's mouth slowly, testing the waters before he met their tongues met and the electricity that shot through them both had Snape's elegant fingers tangled in Harry's hair. Harry moved to pull away for air, but Snape's teeth closed gently around his bottom lip and held him there, eliciting an unexpected moan and shudder through Harry, who gripped Snape's robes tighter to steady his knees as they grew weak. He was surprised at the smoothness, the soft gentleness with which Snape's lips caressed his own in return. It wasn't until Harry reached to touch the side of Snape's face that the spell was broken.

Snape's eyes had opened them and regarded him with a dangerous ferocity that Harry couldn't remember having seen in a while. It was different than the anger he'd faced in Hogsmeade, different than when he'd been caught in Snape's private memories. Terrifying, truly. But...something else entirely. Harry took a step back, detangled himself from the man and regarded him curiously.

"That was-" Harry started, to break the painful silence stretched between them.

"A mistake. It won't happen again. Leave, Potter. Get out."

"Sev-"

"Professor Snape, Potter. We've let ourselves get too comfortable. This isn't right-I'm your teacher, a mentor even. I won't take advantage of you in this state, you're too weak. Naive," Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and flicked his wand at the door which opened with a bang so sharp that Harry jumped, "Out, Potter. You would do well not to mention this abomination to anyone, either. Not until I figure out how to handle it," and by that Snape meant how he would tell Albus what had happened.

He harshly ignored that pain on Harry's face, the way the boy seemed to seal himself off again when they'd only just moved past that point. He ignored that way Harry drew himself taller in order to display his anger, to mask his confusion. Mostly, he ignored the way Harry was touching his lips as though they tingled and burned with longing the same way Snape's were doing right now.

He heard that strangle sob, muffled behind a hand, no doubt, as Harry left his room and took off through the classroom.

Severus dropped into the chair he'd been sitting in what felt like a lifetime ago and kicked the leg of the tea table in front of him hard enough to move it a few inches before it growled at him and walked itself back into place. 

How had that happened?

One moment, they'd been talking about the horrific trauma Harry had suffered at the hands of his Uncle, Snape was preparing to penalize the boy for his recklessness-sneaking out of the castle, getting drunk, putting his friends in danger...and the next, he was  _violating_ the Boy-Who-Lived, pressing his tongue eagerly against Harry's. All soft lips, warm and slightly rough, demanding his attention.  _Merlin's fucking beard...I'm going to hell._ If there was a hell, Severus Snape knew surely that he belonged there. This moment of weakness, and the way he'd handled it would no doubt hurt the boy. He'd had less tact than Weasley stealing glances at Granger's tests in class. Snape groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He had sincerely fucked up.

 

Harry should have known that his happiness was fleeting. It came and went, but never stayed. That much was clear.

True to fashion, he holed up in his dormitory all day and ignored both Ron and Hermione when they tried to convince him to come down for breakfast. Ignored Ginny as she tried to get him to come out and play some quidditch with her and the others. Ignored Hedwig as she pecked at the window with letters from Remus and Charlie whom he'd been writing with the past few weeks. It wasn't until Ron came back around lunch time and let her in that he realized, despite being bedridden all day, he hadn't got an ounce of sleep since he'd been with Sev-Professor Snape. 

"Mate, what in Merlin's baggy y-front is going on? Hermione and I are bloody worried, even Ginny, and y'know she's keen to let you do whatever you want," Ron pressed and perched himself on the edge of his own four poster to look at Harry who met his eyes emptily, "Is it Snape? The git, he knew we were all there, he shouldn't have-"

Harry's eyes cut through Ron like glass, "Drop it, Ron. I won't want to talk about it. Just leave me be. Please," it was as kind as he could force it to be, and he was shocked when Ron got the hint, stood, and left without so much as another word. 

A sigh escaped his lips and he drew the hangings on his four poster shut, charmed them to stay that way, and case the Half Blood Prince's most handy silencing charm. No one would be able to bother him now. Harry lay on his back and bore holes into the ceiling until, finally, he drifted into a restless sleep.

He woke, gasping and panting for air, somewhere in the realm of two am. His hands felt his throat and checked his surroundings. He had to remind himself that he was at school, that Vernon-turned-Snape's hands were not encircling his neck and trying to strangle him. Dream Snape was always more terrifying than the Snape that Harry knew now-or thought he did, anyway. Dream Snape had greasy hair, his nose was more beaklike and cast haunting shadows, his fingers looked like talons, sharp and weapon-like. It would have been amusing, as first-year Harry had thought Snape looked exactly like Dream Snape. Merlin, he was exhausted. He shook his head of the thoughts and tried to remember that Snape had brutally rejected him, told him he was weak and naive. 

If that was what Snape truly thought about him, why had he pretended that he'd cared about Harry at all? Why had he acted like he wanted to protect him? The man was so quick to be cold and unforgiving, that Harry felt like he was getting whiplash trying to keep up with it. Harry had trusted him. Had really-really wanted that. He wanted Snape's kiss, he just hadn't realized it until he'd done it. And then the man had kissed him back and for the first time in his life, he hadn't cringed or pulled away from someone else's touch. He'd felt safe.

And then, he'd felt as if he'd been slapped in the face and the rug had been pulled out from under him.

He made his way to the lavatory and showered. He wanted to be awake and gone before anyone else, he didn't want them to stop him from skiving off to be alone, as was the way he'd come to deal with pretty much any and everything that fucked with his head. He wiped the steam off the mirror and looked at himself, ignored the comment about his weight loss and the bags under his eyes and continued on to brush his teeth.

Harry had to dig deep in his trunk to find the jeans that fit him just a little better than the ones he'd been trying to pretend could stay on his hips if he latched his belt tight enough. He found them at the very bottom, much the same as he found the sharp, jagged edge of the two-way mirror Sirius had given him. He pressed his index finger to his mouth and sucked to ease the pain and, strangely enough, he slipped the mirror in his sock for safe-keeping. Under his cloak not long after, Harry left Gryffindor tower and found himself heading towards the Room of Requirement. 

About to approach and enter the room himself, the door appeared and Harry threw himself against the wall, frantically searching for an exit before he realized that he was under his invisibility cloak and no one could see him. Least of all Draco Malfoy who was hurrying from the room as quickly as he'd appeared. Harry hurried for the door but it disappeared as soon as he got there. A curse blurted from Harry's lips and he tried everything he could think of to bring back the room Malfoy had just been in.

Nothing worked. Perseverance failed him and, instead, he imagined a room like the one they used to practice in for the DA. It was comforting to drop into one of the bean bag chairs they'd used when things were...not happier but still hopeful. When he didn't have half as much going on as he did now. When he didn't feel like he was so fucked up. He couldn't stop feeling sorry for himself and in turn, couldn't stop feeling like he wasn't beating himself up enough. Like he was just being a...naive, weak, arrogant, useless-

 _Slut_.

Harry nearly choked on the thought and pressed his hands over his ears like he could silence the voice in his head as it rattled off a list of insults, Vernon's favorites. The list warped into Snape's insults as well. Pig-headed. Just like his father. Lazy. Pompous. Self-absorbed, attention-seeking. A murderer.

He felt sick. His hands absently reached for his sock and he pulled the mirror, praying that maybe, just maybe someone would be on the other side to answer him.

Of course, he'd tried this already. Sirius hadn't taken the mirror with him. It was locked up in Grimmauld Place, where it was like to stay forever because Harry couldn't bear the thought of ever returning after everything he'd caused.

He wasn't sure what possessed him but he took the sharpest edge of the mirror and pressed his thumb hard against it, hard enough that it drew blood. An easy slit that felt almost satisfying. It wasn't from his Uncle, it wasn't from Voldemort. It wasn't inflicted upon him by any one, any thing. It had nothing to do with who he was or his situation. It was a normal wound. Something he might've gotten from an envelope if he opened it carelessly. Something anyone could have. It didn't make him special. It didn't even mean anything.

It was strange then, how tempted he was to drag the glass over the rest of him. He did a bit. Over the scar on the back of his hand.

~~_I must not tell lies._ ~~

Merlin, it felt good. Like he was taking his body back.

Well, it didn't feel good. That was for sure. It still hurt. It felt like a wound. Like any cut would feel like. Only the intention behind it, the gratification he got from it. That was different. He wiped his hand on the back of his robes listlessly before he remembered he was a wizard and cast a cleaning spell. Summoned bandages long-forgotten on the shelves behind him and covered the wound, feeling oddly proud of himself. Almost euphoric.

It wasn't long before letting himself be consumed by his thoughts and memories became boring. So, instead, he forced himself to practice some of the magic he'd been working on with Snape. The defensive spells, offensive spells. It took him hours, but eventually, the self-repairing dummies had tired themselves out, so he decided to call it quits as well. He didn't know why he bothered practicing. Part of him wanted to be good, wanted to be a successful wizard. Wanted to fulfill what he was meant for. It would mean Snape and Dumbledore were proud of him. That everything they'd worked for and everyone had died for hadn't been for nothing.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with himself anymore. He wanted to keep trying, but a larger, more daunting part of him wanted to stay in the Room of Requirement forever and forget everything, to waste away alone.

He supposed he could do both. Dedicate himself to practicing and nothing else. It would be selfish, but he could fool them all. He'd done it for years, hadn't he?

Harry knew he could self-destruct, all whilst appearing to try and save the world. The best of both worlds, really.

He slipped the mirror out of his sock again and dragged it across his wrist with sick fascination. Felt his breathing pick up and slow to a calm, relaxing pace. This was good. This helped. He didn't need Snape, didn't care for his rejection. Harry studied himself in the mirrors lining the room and tweaked his appearance with a few flicks of his wand. The bags under his eyes were gone, his cheeks weren't quite so hollow as they'd been starting to appear the past few weeks. He wasn't as pale and his scar didn't look red or fiercely irritated.

He tucked his wand under his robes and, for shock and awe, made his way to breakfast where he met the others and apologized for being distant. He knew Snape wouldn't have expected him to show up for breakfast or class. He wanted to prove him wrong. This hadn't affected him. He was fine.

He knew the other's noticed the difference in his appearance, that he seemed,  _happy_. Like he'd just needed some time and space apart. He let them think that that was all it was and silently thanked the gods that they didn't comment on it any further. 

His plate was filled with eggs and rashers, a piece of toast with a healthy helping of butter. He brought the fork to his mouth and chimed into conversation before it passed his lips, all too easy to vanish bits on his plate with his wand working under the table. 

When they finally rose for class at the sound of the bell, Harry felt a rush of satisfaction. He could do this. He could get away with it. 

Harry was so caught up that he didn't notice the way Severus Snape's eyes followed him, full of suspicion as he left the Great Hall. 

In fact, he wouldn't have cared if he had.


	27. In Which Harry and Severus Share a Second Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry guys. Sometimes this story gets away from me and it's been so long since I've written that I feel like I'm messing up the plot. I know, I know, all the cliches are coming now, glamours etc. But bear with me. You've done it for this long!
> 
> I did warn you that it was slow-building by the way. But I hope the last chapter gave you some hope that Snape and Harry may one day actually be happy. For a brief, fleeting moment.
> 
> Usual warnings apply. Extra trigger warnings for Harry's generally self-destructive behavior in this chapter.

Time passed relatively uneventful. Harry spent his time ignoring Snape and avoiding Dumbledore. He spent his time following Malfoy and deducing what he'd learned with Ron and Hermione's help. So far, they didn't know much of anything. Only that Malfoy was acting very suspicious and Harry was certain (but couldn't prove, as Hermione pointed out) that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. 

In classes, he participated that same as he always had. He smiled when people looked at him and participated in conversation. He faked his way through breakfast and lunch but disappeared before dinner with lies to the others that he was eating with Snape before they trained. It was easy to skip off after his last class, Charms, where Flitwick would never stop him and Snape's class was too far to catch him. He had just enough time to get away and no one was any the wiser. The truth was, he would head to the Room of Requirement and train on his own, knowing that no one could find him here. The Room of Requirement had provided books with more intricate spell work. And, as he'd become better at spellwork in general, through his practice with Snape previously, he found it was rewarding to read about a new spell and learn it on his own. He thought Hermione might be proud.

The glamours wore off by the time his training was finished and he reapplied them each morning an hour or two before the rest of the house woke up. It wasn't that he was still actively looking to self-destruct and die anymore. He'd been faking it for a few weeks now to the point where it was getting easy to pretend. The same way it used to be in previous years. The cutting, the little amount he was eating, it was keeping him going, the opposite of what he'd thought it would do. It made it easier to keep going, to keep training and fulfill his purpose before he'd finally be left alone to do...whatever he wanted. And if, at that point, he wanted to starve himself and die, he could. Right now, though. He wouldn't allow himself to be so selfish. He had his selfish secret and that was enough for now.

After curfew, he would head back to his dorms and sneak into bed, tallying himself another day. 

A few times, he'd looked up at the high table to see both Snape and Dumbledore staring at him. Harry wondered what stopped either one of them for walking off the dais to intervene. To bring him to their office and set the record straight. 

Harry toyed with the idea that Snape hadn't told Dumbledore what was going on. That Harry hadn't been showing up for his lessons because Snape had learned his darkest secret and Harry had kissed him. That Snape had kissed him back. There was no way Snape hadn't told Dumbledore...and yet. It was becoming more apparent to Harry that Dumbledore had no idea what was going on.

It wasn't until Harry finally went to Dumbledore to apologize for not showing up their last meeting. The guilt had consumed him that night, as Dumbledore smiled sadly at him from across the room.

"I was angry, sir, I'm sorry. I was angry at everyone, I didn't want to do it anymore," it sounded pathetic coming out of his mouth, Harry fixed his eyes on the floor.

"It is I who should be sorry, Harry. Sometimes I forget that you're 16 and not as old as I am. Though, I daresay you've been through far more in such a short amount of time. I don't blame you," Dumbledore's smile was still sad, but not pitying. Harry accepted it and returned his own, "When you're ready, we can begin. You know where to find me," Dumbledore insisted and peered of his half moon spectacles, "Perhaps after the holidays, but not before. You deserve some time off, I think," Harry fought the urge to spill his secrets and simply nodded before standing and turning to the door, "Oh, and Harry?"

He froze and didn't turn around, afraid his face would betray him, "I don't know what's happened between you and Professor Snape but, I do hope you can forgive a man for his mistakes. He does care about you, very much."

Harry nodded and left without so much as another word, his heart was pounding something fierce in his chest. He felt the panic coming, palpitations, shortness of breath. He took off down the winding staircase and shot out from behind the Gargoyle statue almost before it had jumped aside. 

What was happening to him? What was it about Dumbledore-why did what he say matter so much? Why did Snape...caring about him, making mistakes, why did it give him so much hope? 

It shouldn't, he knew it shouldn't.

Harry pressed a hand to his chest and tried to calm himself down, but didn't succeed. His legs carried him, a mind of their own, then and he found himself blurting before the empty canvas of wall, "I need a place to hide," the door appeared and he threw himself behind it before realizing that this wasn't the DA practice room, his safe spot. But  _this_ was where Malfoy had been going all this time because  _there_ Malfoy was, asleep on a plush sofa next to a large cabinet, his arm draped over the-

His  _arm_. The Mark. It was there. 

Harry felt panic again. He wanted to shove his wand into Malfoy's neck and walk him to the headmaster. How could he be so stupid? And what was he doing spending all his time here? There was nothing here that seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, it seemed the exact opposite type of place Malfoy would go for...a nap? It was filled with clutter, things that looked new and old. Broken and useless. Perhaps valuable. It was exactly the reason that he knew Malfoy was hiding something. Something dangerous. A weapon, or...just something. For Voldemort. He chanced another glance at Malfoy and moved slowly towards the cabinet out of plain curiosity. He opened the door, expecting all the other's secrets to present themselves.

Instead, the cabinet creaked and displayed damaged, splintered wood. There was nothing inside but confusion for Harry. He would have to talk to Ron and Hermione, he needed their opinion. And he needed to see the look on Hermione's face when he told her he'd seen the mark with his own eyes.

An unusual route for him to take, the opposite of impulsive. More calculating and thoughtful.

He wasn't sure what time it was, probably just about curfew, but Harry didn't care as he wound his way towards the entrance hall in hopes of making it outside for some fresh air. He'd find them and tell them tomorrow after he'd had some time to think on it himself. Time to calm down and catch his bearings. Most importantly, did Snape know? Had he told Dumbledore? Could Snape be...helping Malfoy? For real, or as a ruse? His chest felt tight, his thoughts overwhelmed. The bitter cold winter air would do him some good, maybe freeze his thoughts (or himself?) in time for just a little while.

Of course, fate would have it that Harry would trip over Mrs. Norris, who would hiss like the furry little bitch she was and alert Filch, who happened to be just around the corner. Part of Harry wondered if they planned traps together to catch students unawares.

"Potter, out of bed after curfew again, I see, well, well. What will Professor McGonagall say about this?" The sneering drawl that came from Filch's spittle had Harry fighting the urge to roll his eyes and aim another kick at Mrs. Norris. 

"I don't know, Filch, take me to her and let's find out," he was tried of this already, he didn't have time for it now. What was another detention later?

"That won't be necessary, Argus, Mr. Potter is with me."

It was the absolute last voice he wanted to hear. He opened his mouth to beg for detention instead, hanging by his toenails in the dungeon, which might appease Filch enough to disregard Snape, but Snape had spoken again while Harry's heart raced and the blood rushed to his ears, and Filch was already gone by the time he would have spoken. 

"Stay away from me," Harry blurted suddenly as Snape turned to him.

A polished brow raised cooly and Harry had to force himself not to notice how elegant, yet strong Snape's bone structure looked when his hair was tied back messily. He forced himself not to take in the sight of Snape in a plain, button up shirt, rolled at the sleeves baring surprisingly toned forearms. Black trousers tight and loose in all the places Harry was forcing himself to ignore. It was a thought that would make Ron wretch, but Snape was  _attractive._ Not conventionally so, but- _damn._

"Stop acting like a petulant child, you're a man grown. We need to talk, Harry," Snape sighed and pulled his wand from where it was tucked into his bun, "Do not make me force you."

Harry knew from the tone of his voice, that Snape would have no qualms about that. And so, he went.

The silence between them was heavy, thick with the weight of their last encounter. Harry crossed his arms over his chest as they walked, encircled the bony parts of his wrist and made sure he could touch the tips of all his fingers with his thumb. He let them encircle his forearm and found that just before his elbow his fingertips couldn't make it the whole way around. He gnawed on his lip and let his arms fall to his sides disdainfully. At least he could focus on that, as opposed to the conversation that was like to take place in just a few moments, as Snape opened the office door and held it until Harry was securely inside-no doubt convinced he would run if he got the chance.

He probably would have if the opportunity presented itself.

Nails bit into palms and Harry kept himself facing away from Snape, sure that his face, his eyes at least, would betray him. He didn't want to have this conversation, whatever it was. He didn't care what Snape would have to say to him. Harry was, admittedly, nervous it would weaken his resolve. Sway him away from this destructive path he was bent on following until the very end.

"Harry, look at me," Snape urged, his voice quieter than Harry had ever heard it before.

"Why, Professor?" His words were meant to sound biting, but even Harry could hear the hurt hoarseness with which they fell.

Snape said nothing, but Harry could hear gentle footsteps as they moved to face him. Harry made to turn away again, embarrassed at the sheen of tears in his eyes, "Don't, forget it happened. I was confused, leave me alone," he wanted to shout but could barely whisper.

"I didn't handle anything correctly, Harry. I was tactless, I hurt you." 

Yes, Harry thought bitterly, you have no idea how much you hurt me.

"It's not right, Harry. We can't-what happened can never happen again. But that doesn't mean I don't care about you. I meant it when I said that, we just...need boundaries." 

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm starting to work with Dumbledore after the holiday. We're free of each other again, you've got your wish-"

"You deign to assume you know every wish or desire that consumes me? I assure you, you have not the slightest inkling of the things I want-"

"You kissed me back and threw me away like I was nothing!"

"It was a moment of weakness on my part and you were vulnerable, you misplaced your feelings based on my protective efforts-"

"You deign to assume you know anything about my feelings, you know what they say about assuming, Professor-"

"Potter, I swear-"

"Makes an arse out of you and me-"

"Stupid man!" Snape hissed and stood over Harry, his head tipped downwards as Harry looked up at him, eyes wide with shock and...something that burned deep within Snape himself, "You couldn't handle the things I desire," Snape's elegant fingertips burned tracks in Harry's jaw before his thumb traced Harry's lower lip. Harry swatted Snape's hand away and press his lips against the pale column of Snape's neck with bruising force.

"Try me, Professor-" taunted Harry, the ghost of his smirk brushing gently against the other's throat. He felt vibrations and heard the throaty growl that came from Snape then, it gave him a confidence he didn't know he had as he dragged his fingertips slowly over Snape's chest, stopping just at the waist of his trousers.

"Harry. No." 

His voice wasn't convincing enough, so Harry continued, pulled the hem of Snape's shirt from where it was tucked into his pants, slipped cool, thin fingers along Snape's chest where he was pleased to find a ripple of muscle, a raised scar here and there, an erect nipple that Harry couldn't help but let his nails catch, eliciting a gasp from Snape as he tried to step backwards and found himself pressed against the desk in his study.

Wordlessly, and with a surprised laugh from Harry, Snape switched their positions and used his thumb and forefinger to lift Harry's chin, where he hungrily devoured the perfectly pink, wanting lips before him. Harry moaned into Snape's mouth and wound his arms around his torso, his fingers finding purchase against very similar scars on the man's back. Scars similar to his own-he hesitated as Snape stilled, only for a moment, before he traced long delicate patterns in each old wound, wounds he knew all too well. Harry felt Snape shudder against him and Harry found himself leaning into it, wanting to feel the  heat and longing of Snape's body against his.

"We have to stop-"

"No-" whined Harry needily.

"We can't do this, Harry. Not now. Not...yet."

Harry raised his eyebrow as Snape disentangled them from one another.

"You are insatiable, you've made me forget myself again," Snape muttered in frustration, more over the fact that he'd lost control over himself because Harry Potter was so bloody intoxicating, "This is not going to happen again. As you said, you will continue lessons with Professor Dumbledore, and I will find other arrangements for you this summer."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his sleeve slipped up his arm and even Harry cringed as it was late, and the glamours wouldn't hold the same as they had all day, "Whatever you say, then," and Snape could tell that Harry wasn't convinced, but his eyes were glued to the sudden gauntness in his face, the sunken look of his eyes and those marks he'd seen on Harry's bony arm.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" Snape's voice was harsh then, as he stepped forward to grab Harry by the shoulder, to tear off his cloak and see just how brutally he was treating himself. Harry was too quick, he shot backward away from Snape and before Snape could freeze him in place, Harry non-verbally disarmed him and caught the other's wand with an outstretched hand.

"I've been practicing, you see," cheekily, Harry twirled Snape's wand between his fingers and sighed before he met Snape's eyes again. Snape saw green, tumultuous and murky, painful to look at.

"My wand, Harry, and get over here. Now," he was used to getting his demands this way, but Harry simply barked a laugh and shook his head.

"Boundaries, right, Professor?"

Before Snape could react, a voice sounded behind them both and they froze, the look in their eyes shifting noticeably. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

"I need you in my office, Severus, and I've asked Minerva to fetch Mr. Potter in a few moments. It's important."

The fire crackled and flame died and Harry realized it had only been Dumbledore's voice coming through the fire, not him personally. 

Concern laced both their features and Snape pointed his chin at the door, "Go back to your dormitory and wait for-"

"McGonagall got it."

Harry tossed Snape's wand back to him, to which Snape's slender fingers caught with ease before Harry disappeared from sight and he flooed to the headmaster's office. He had no idea what this could be about, a minute part of him was concerned Dumbledore knew, somehow. But the tone of the man's voice suggested something more grave.

 

Harry used his expert knowledge of the Marauder's Map to make it back to Gryffindor Tower in record time. He was panting when he blurted the password and burst into the Common Room, fully expecting it to be empty. He was caught off guard to see Ron and Hermione sitting there, waiting for him, "Oh-"

"Where have you been, Harry? We were so worried!" Hermione blurred immediately, her hair looked wild as the light from the fire hit it, and Harry noticed briefly that she and Ron were holding hands before she catapulted to her feet.

"I'll explain everything, but not now. There isn't time-"

"No, mate, we've had enough, we want answers," Ron got to his feet as well and stood beside Hermione, his arms crossed over his chest.

Hermione had tears in her eyes when she spoke, "We know you've not been meeting with Professor Snape and Luna's asked us both what you're hiding under those glamours-" a tiny son escaped her and Ron put his hand on the small of her back before she composed herself again, "There's something horribly dark going on with you, Harry. We...we aren't going to keep quiet anymore-"

Before Harry could respond, the portrait swung open behind them and Harry pleaded with both Ron and Hermione to stop this, now. 

"Why am I not surprised you three are still awake?" Ron and Hermione looked sheepish to see McGonagall there but looked to Harry to speak. When he didn't, McGonagall sighed, "The Headmaster wishes to see you, Potter," she hesitated then, her eyes lingering on a tearful Hermione and stalwart Ron, "If you all would accompany us, I believe it would be appropriate to have you present."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron and Hermione rushed for the portrait hole, refusing to give him the chance to keep them further isolated.

He lingered behind them all and bounced back and forth between digging his nails into his palms and wrapping his hands around his wrist. Whatever this was, he could lie his way out of it or pretend it didn't bother him. He could get through this.

His stomach dropped as they entered Dumbledore's office and saw Snape, stony faced and unseeing. Dumbledore stared at Harry, and he was sure everyone in the room aside from Snape could see how sickly he looked.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, glad you could join us. I think your support will be most-"

"What is this about?" Harry blurted as Dumbledore conjured them extra chairs.

He met Snape's eyes briefly and saw nothing but rage, "If you'd sit, Harry, this may come as a shock-" Harry dropped into the chair unceremoniously and looked expectantly at Dumbledore who appeared to smile sadly back at the room, "Your cousin has been murdered."

"That's a lie-"

"Harry..." Hermione said quietly, her hand gently reaching for Harry's before he yanked violently away, her eyes were glued to the Muggle newspaper on Dumbledore's desk, "That's your aunt and uncle's house, isn't it? Number 4, Privet drive-" Harry lunged for the paper and scanned the headline, his face falling at the sight of his aunt and uncle huddled over a shapeless form, undoubtedly Dudley. Aunt Petunia was sobbing into Dudley's chest while Vernon looked murderous beside her as he stared into the camera. Harry swallowed thickly and felt, irrationally, that his uncle had meant that look for him. That he knew this was Harry's fault. That he was going to pay for it.

Harry felt like he deserved it as he shakily started to ask: "H-how? But the blood protection-"

Dumbledore shifted in his chair and stared at Harry while he explained the knowledge the Minister for Magic had given him not long ago, once the scene had been appropriately investigated at his own bequest, "It is believed your cousin was attacked outside the home, beyond the protection your aunt's blood offers. There were multiple eyewitnesses who reported 'hooded, masked figures and flashes of light'. It appears he did not...go painlessly, and yet, there is no cause of death." Harry knew what that meant. That Death Eaters had been watching the house, thought they could injure Harry while he was away at school by murdering the Dursley's?

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. He placed the paper back on the Headmaster's desk and ran a hand over his face, careful to keep his sleeves in place, "And my aunt and uncle?" He hoped Vernon was dead, too. That the photo would move and progress to another murder, but this was a muggle paper, and that was all there was.

"They are alive and unharmed, though deeply devastated. The service is in two days time. Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt have agreed to escort you."

Harry nodded, he'd expected this. Of course, he'd have to go after what he'd caused. He felt he had to go, despite...everything. Dudley had been awful to him, but he hadn't deserved to die because he had been conditioned to hate Harry. It was just another name to add to a continuously growing list.

"I don't believe that is necessary, Headmaster. Why should we risk Mr. Potter's safety when it is clear the location has been compromised?" They were all shocked to hear Snape speak on behalf of Harry, but none more than Harry himself, who felt a tinge of color reach his cheeks. He looked down at his scar, cut and scratched so the words were barely legible.

"Headmaster, Harry has never been really that close with-"

"It's fine, Hermione. I owe it to them, it's my fault he's dead, after all," Harry scoffed and stood before any of them could object, as they all appeared they were about to, "I just want to get some sleep. I need some time to grieve," the words sounded false, even to him, but no one tried to stop him as he turned to the exit and both Ron and Hermione joined him as well.

"Professor McGonagall will escort you back to your dormitories, I do believe Mr. Filch is avidly seeking to find students out of bed," Dumbledore quipped gently and both Snape and Harry were again met with the same strange suspicion that something had happened between them, not long ago.

They walked quietly. Climbed through the portrait hole quietly. As Ron and Hermione turned helplessly towards him, Harry quietly ascended the stairs, charmed his four poster hangings shut and cast muffliato before he reached in his sock to draw the jagged piece of mirror he had been thinking about since they'd left the dormitory earlier that night. 

It was the only thing that shut his mind and kept him from losing the tiny bits of him that were left.


	28. In Which They Resign Themselves to the Truth of Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same old going on here, I hope you guys don't mind the sudden muse. I know things might feel rushed or oddly different but, it's been a while since I've written!
> 
> Feedback is all I want from you guys, tell me what you think or would like to see!
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter, specific to self-injury, abuse, and trauma.
> 
> I also want to clarify that the issues Harry is facing, both self-destructive and his experiences are all things I have experienced in some form or another (aside from the magic, sadly). For me, writing this story is about expressing myself, dragging a strong character through the worst of all hells and building them up again. 
> 
> And, on a very serious, important note:
> 
> In light of the recent high-profile, highly publicized suicides of two beloved rock-stars, Chris Cornell and Chester Bennington, I want all of you reading to know that suicide is not the answer. It is not glorious, it is not beautiful. In a desperate moment, it might seem like the only option, but there are people who would fight for you to live. People who would do anything for you. Pure strangers, like myself, that would stay up all night in order to make sure you live through another day. Drop a comment if you need some guidance on getting the help you deserve. 
> 
> Contact the suicide hotline at: 1-800-273-8255.
> 
> You can even TEXT the Crisis Text Line, start by sending "HOME" OR "HELLO" to 741741. No matter what crisis you are in, there are TRAINED CRISIS WORKERS available 24/7. I volunteered for this program for a while, it is helpful if you need someone to talk to, no matter the situation. 
> 
> You are not alone. There is another way. You can, and deserve to get help. You are all beautiful, incredible muggles with something so uniquely special and different to offer to the rest of the world. Do not end your story before you get the chance to change the lives of those who are blessed to be around you.
> 
> xoxo MagicMight

Harry passed through the next day in a fog. 

Ron and Hermione catered to his every need. Filled his plate for him before he had even made it down to breakfast, watched him carefully as he took every bite.

He couldn't fake it today, they were watching him too closely and kept conversation light. It seemed everyone had been watching closely. The glamours were cast, but at breakfast? He ate every bite in order to throw them off his trail. Or, at the very least, to keep them from coddling him. As Hermione headed to class, Ron and Harry had a free period, with which Harry excused himself to wretch the food he'd eaten. He'd barely made it to the toilet and couldn't settle his stomach even after he'd purged. In one days time he had to stand beside his aunt and Vernon. He had to live with what he'd done and face the wrath of it. His aunt and uncle would never forgive him, they would know it was his fault. Likely, they already knew, despite the way the wizarding world had tried to fix things by burning Number 4, Privet Drive to the ground.

They tried to hide the evidence with a fire. Obliviated the Muggles that had witnessed the actual events, and cleaned up the mess before anyone had the chance to blink an eye. Smoke inhalation, he'd read as he'd sent Hedwig to bring him a muggle paper for an update.

His Aunt and Uncle were reportedly holed up in Grimmauld Place, a decision that Harry hadn't been made aware of until he'd read Remus's letter this morning. It was the safest place Dumbledore could offer them on such short notice. It enraged him to no end. The idea of them...there? It made him nauseous. Harry had been consumed with his thoughts through every class he'd attended this morning. Wrapped his fingers around his wrists until it seemed almost innate. He couldn't focus on his lessons, ignored Ron, who told him to take the day off. Ignored Hermione, who told him to go to the Hospital Wing, or Dumbledore. The last person he wanted to see was Dumbledore, who had made such a hurtful decision on his behalf. Had there truly been no where else for them to go? No other safehouse in the entirety of the world? Why in the fuck couldn't they have just gone to America?

No, none of them would understand what Harry felt in this moment or what he would feel in the next few days while everyone else was going off to enjoy their holiday and he had to watch his cousin sink into the ground while he had to stand next to--

He couldn't do this, he couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't pretend to be okay while he was fucking  _dying_ inside.

_He is in Sirius's house. He is tainting everything._

Harry couldn't stomach the idea of faking it much longer. Would not be able to control himself when Ron and Hermione, or Ginny and Neville, or Luna asked if he was okay. Of course, he wasn't. He couldn't remember the last time he had been, and the incessant asking was going to push him over the edge.

"Harry, you can't miss Defense-" Hermione started, as Harry turned for the opposite staircase.

"I-" Harry stopped, letting the rest of the crowd pass them, "I can't, I need to-" Harry felt a sob building in his throat, "Let me go, please. I'll go talk to Dumbledore about it. Meet you at lunch?" It was a blatant lie, of course. He wasn't going to Dumbledore, wasn't going to lunch. He needed to prepare himself, he needed to steel himself against all the nightmares he'd dreamed that were coming his way.

Harry skivved lunch. The rest of his lessons. Instead took purchase in the astronomy tower because the clouds were thick and the rain was as heavy as his thoughts. He buried his face in his hands and laughed when tears didn't come. He was pathetic. Useless. Of course he couldn't cry. He'd numbed himself until the tears were frozen behind his eyes.

"How am I going to kill Voldemort, when I can't even kill myself?" Harry blurted aloud, knives in his chest as he admitted the thought he'd had for years, but hadn't let himself truly give weight to, until now.

Harry hadn't heard anyone approaching and so, when his rhetoric was met with a response, he lunged to his feet, wand drawn. His reflexes were sharp and sure from training with Snape and practising on his own, "The Boy-Who-Lived is desperate to die? How _morbid_ ," Malfoy sneered, his lip curled with a malicious smirk. Harry took careful note of Draco's own wand, one twitch and he'd be at the ready, "Do us all a favor and jump, would you?"

"Piss off, Malfoy. I know that you're up to something. I know you've got the Mark. What were you bloody thinking?" Harry spat incredulously, "Keen to end up like your father has? Dirt on the bottom of Voldemort's-" Harry was incredulous. He'd always thought Malfoy was an evil git, his father, naturally. But for Malfoy to join, at sixteen? How had they both ended up on such opposite sides of the spectrum? Would anything have changed that day if Harry had taken Malfoy's offer of friendship? Might Malfoy be in the same trouble as he was now? 

He deflected the flash of purple light easily and it shattered a telescope off to the side, "Keep my father's name out of your mouth, Potter. Or, should I say, _murderer_? How's your Aunt and...what was it, _Uncle Vern_?"

Harry flicked a stinging hex that caught Malfoy's sleeve and burned his robes, the wince on Malfoy's snarling face wasn't satisfactory enough, "Watch yourself, Malfoy-"

"I've been thinking about that class lately. Strange, isn't it? That you would call _his name_ while _I_ was the one on top of you?" Draco raised an eyebrow, and the rage that shuffled through Harry was black and blinded him as he forgot his wand and lunged at the platinum blonde fuck in front of him in order to wrap his hands around his throat.

The Slytherin overpowered him easily, as Harry was hardly in any shape to support himself after the last few weeks he'd had, and was able to point his wand at Harry's ribs with a muttered ' _Crucio_!'

The pain was horrific and it crippled Harry completely, it felt like it would last an eternity, but it ended after only a few mere seconds, leaving Draco to back away, apparently in shock as Harry pushed himself to his feet with a laugh, "Your psychotic aunt taught me that to truly cast an unforgivable, you really have to _mean it_ ," Harry sent a stunner which Draco deflected and, both of them continued to cast non-verbally until Harry found his back was pressed against the balcony and Draco was baring down on him. They were not evenly matched, Harry felt he was clearly superior in his spell work at this point, but his vision was hazy and his head was cloudy-there were spots in his eyes- " _Depulso_!" He shouted and Draco shot across the room from him and hit the stone wall with a sharp yell before he collapsed on his hands and knees.

"You'll pay for that, Potter," Draco hissed as his hand came away from the back of his scalp bloody, pain etched into every feature, but Harry had his hands on his knees and found he was having trouble standing up straight, that his vision was really fading and pain shot through him again as he started to collapse, this time it began from his forehead and burned its way through the rest of his body as his knees brutally met concrete and he vaguely heard the door of the tower opening, "I didn't! H-he-" Harry vaguely heard Draco stammering and then retreating footsteps. His right hand was digging sharply into the stone floor while his left was pressing against his scar, as if that could quell the pain.

"-arry, Harry! Can you hear me?"

It was Snape, always conveniently saving the day.

Harry gasped for air as the pain dulled to a mere tingle, realizing only then that he'd been holding his breath since his scar had begun to feel like it was ripping open across his forehead, "He's so angry, don't go, please. I need-"

- _you_.

But before Harry could finish his thought pain racked through him again, a scream tore from his lips, and he truly lost consciousness in the arms of Severus Snape. He didn't fight consciousness again this time, he just let himself go.

 

He expected to wake up with the bright lights of the Hospital Wing shining harshly in his eyes, but when he finally opened them, Harry realized the room he was in was dimly lit; the bed sheets below him were not white linen, but an emerald silk. It took him a moment to remember what had happened, the fight with Malloy, blasting him across the room, the Cruciatus, and so much pain exploding from his scar. He remembered Malfoy leaving and Snape trying to speak with him.

And then he remembered what Malfoy had said about his uncle. Rage coursed through him but as his heart raced and his breathing picked up, the urge to cut and calm himself sank in and he realized he was more afraid than he was angry. Afraid that someone might've found out-aside from Snape, who had so far demonstrated that he wasn't going to tell anyone, not even Dumbledore.

He sat up, his arms shaking under the weight of himself as he pushed himself upright and surveyed the room. Snape was nowhere to be found, which sent another sheer wave of panic through Harry and he launched himself out of his Professor's bed-

Wait.

As his bare feet his the cool floor, Harry spun around and surveyed the room, realizing for the first time that beyond the door in Snape's office was his bedroom. His panic was quelled as he took in the lavish bookshelves, the luxuries bed lined with silk sheets and plush pillows, the chaise, elegant side table and chairs set up tastefully in the corner. It was nothing like he pictured and yet, exactly what he expected. The books in Snape's shelf were not all about spell casting and potioneering, there were muggle tomes as well. Poetry and Epics, the novelty of it made Harry smile.

Until he remembered why he'd been panicking in the first place. Harry started for the door and only stopped when he heard voices on the other side of it. Snape's was low and indiscernible...but the other was more anxious and Harry immediately recognized it as Malfoy. He pressed his ear to the door and stayed as silent as he could but only caught snippets of the conversation.

_"-knows about me, said he saw-"_

_"-it's of no consequence, Draco. Potter is pig-headed and arrogant, no one would believe-"_

_"-still don't understand-"_

_"-Lord knows our place here is more important-"_

_"-is he now?"_

_"-unconscious in his dormitory. And you should-"_

_"Fine."_

The receding sound of feet was muffled and then non-existent, and Harry realized that Malfoy was leaving which meant that Snape was coming and-

-too late.

The door opened and knocked him right in the face, causing Harry to curse and hold his nose as he backed away sheepishly.

"Serves you right, bloody Gryffindor," Snape muttered and closed the door shut behind him before he cast a silencing charm.

"If you'd have thought to do that earlier, I wouldn't have heard you call me pig-headed and arrogant," Harry muttered and rubbed the soreness out of his nose.

"Nothing you haven't heard before," Snape quipped with a slow drawl before he gestured for Harry to get back in bed, "Mr. Malfoy told me what happened, start  to finish."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm sure, did you award Slytherin 50 house points for-"

"Get over yourself, he told me what you said about killing yourself. About his father. What he said about your Uncle. How you reacted. The ensuing duel in which an unforgivable was used and Malfoy was given a concussion."

"And the part about him being a fucking Death Eater, right? The shit you've known all along and haven't told me? He's dangerous, he's planning something, I've seen it in the Room of Requirement!"

"The what?"

Harry froze and raised an eyebrow, "You don't-nevermind, it's not important where we need to tell Dumbledore so he can head this off before it gets worse."

"I assure you, Headmaster Dumbledore is already well aware of the situation, Harry, calm down," Snape's words were final then, and Harry had to force himself to steady his breathing, to calm the rate with which his heart was beating like a bass drum against the hollow of his chest. His nails bit eagerly into his palms, too dull to truly cause pain, but enough that he was able to perch himself on the edge of Snape's bed with a frustrated sigh.

Snape moved away from him them, to a small chest in the corner of the room where he pulled a few vials of potion.

Harry watched him carefully, sure this was some sort of trick to disrobe him and learn all his dark secrets, "I don't need anything, I'm fine. It was just my scar, Voldemort is fucking furious about something," Harry ignored the pointed glare from Snape, he refused to praise him as if he were some god. Voldemort was no Lord, not over him, "I'm glad you didn't go."

Severus said nothing as he crossed the room and perched himself against the bed next to Harry, not enough space between them for Harry to allow his heart to truly settle in his chest, "We have a lot to discuss, Harry."

He knew it was true, too, but he didn't want to, couldn't stand the thought of addressing the more intimate parts of his life, both involving Snape and the trauma Vernon had put him through, "Not now, I can't-"

"It's not that you cannot, it's that you do not want to," Snape asserted in a clipped tone, "Take off your robes, I want to see the truth."

Harry blanched, his face paled and he lengthened the distance between himself and the man beside him, "It's none of your business what's underneath my robes-"

"Do not make me force you-"

"You'll have to force me then-"

"Very well," Snape said quietly, and before he could resist, Harry felt a strange sensation overtake his limbs. He resisted at first his face contorting with rage as, at long last, his fingertips found the clasp of his robes and removed them from his shoulders, leaving him in nothing but a t-shirt and black slacks. The glamours were gone, worn off the moment he'd lost consciousness and focus over them. The curse lifted itself and Harry turned away from Snape as if that would help him hide his too-slight frame and hacked up arms.

He was shaking with anger then, "I hate you, you're no better than he is for making me-"

Snape's latched tightly to Harry's wrist and yanked, pulling the boy around to face him, "Don't you ever put me and that vile excuse for a man in the same category, Potter. Don't you dare-"

"Oh, dare I? You just _made_ me-"

"Because I care about you, you insolent _fucking_ child!" Snape launched away from Harry then, as if he didn't trust himself to control his next actions. He wasn't sure if he would hit or kiss the boy, "You're destroying yourself, look at you, you're barely a ghost. I just want to save you from _this,_ you don't deserve  _this_! Why would you do this to yourself? I can't understand it," he shook his head at his own incredulity. Even in his own darkest moments, he never thought he deserved to cause himself so much pain. He'd only thought to avenge himself.

Harry shied away, shocked to hear Snape curse-he wasn't sure he ever had before. Brutally embarrassed, he wanted to hide himself away; instead, he cradled his arms to his chest, wrapped them tightly around his waist and refused to look Snape in the eye, "I'm tired, Severus, I'm exhausted. I'm done. I don't want to-I _can't_ do this anymore, I can't live with everything I've done, I'd rather die! I destroy or kill everything or everyone I've ever met, I never asked for this. I don't want this. I'm _useless,_ _nothing._ " 

"Harry-"

"Don't! Don't bother, I know the things you thought about me all these years, what everyone else has thought about me! I killed my parents, I killed Cedric, Sirius, Dudley! Countless Order members and muggles! Almost Mr. Weasley! I'm toxic and the only one who ever told me the truth was my Uncle. I deserved what I got, whatever else is to come-if I can speed along the process a bit, what does it matter? Malfoy was right, I'd be doing the entire fucking world a favor! So many people want me dead and it would be easier to help it happen, I'll be a real hero now!" He spat callously, the sarcasm so bitter Snape thought it might burn. Harry threw his arms out, as if he meant to show his surrender, baring his cuts, scabs, and scars to Snape without care, "And now I have to go-and they're in his  _house,_ they're tainting everything I have left, _I can't escape it_ -" Harry felt a sob tear from his throat and was surprised at the wetness in his eyes. His chest was heaving, lungs aching for air, heart thumping hard in his chest.

Snape said nothing as he slowly crossed the room. For not the first, nor the last time, Harry Potter had rendered him speechless. Harry flinched away as Severus reached for his wrists tenderly, but Snape persevered and turned them towards the ceiling so he could see each and every wound, red and angry, as angry as the fire in his chest that he had pushed and pulled Harry away so many time before. He pulled his wand and pulled it over each cruel mark until they disappeared in the wake of his wand's tip, "You're not going to hurt yourself anymore, Harry. I won't allow it." There was something so final and definite in Snape's tone that Harry almost believed he would stop, until Snape dropped his arms and the spell was broken. The pain in the air between them was so palpable, Snape thought he might collapse under it himself.

"I can't handle this, Severus, the rejection hurts too much-" Harry admitted earnestly, before he could stop himself, ready to pull away and leave before both of them put their walls up again and realized that this couldn't happen, for so many reasons neither of them had the time to list.

Severus pursed his lips and tried to ignore the way his eyes darted towards Harry's own, trembling with the fear of rejection, fresh in both of their minds, "Against my better judgement, Harry, I don't think I have it in me to reject you again, but we won't cross...certain lines until you're of age, I can't, morally, ethically. I won't sacrifice that," and Snape reached to take Harry's face between his hands, "I was so, so wrong about you. Blinded by old anger. There is far more of your mother in you than your father...and yet, the combination is  _intoxicating_ ," Severus admitted with a frustrated sigh. As gaunt as Harry was, he looked almost ethereal. Snape realized he was, again, betraying his boundaries, ignoring every part of him that was screaming to stop this before it consumed them both entirely.

Harry's chest was heaving then, for different reasons now, "Kiss me," he pleaded, his hands binding themselves to the front of Snape's clothes, "Please, just-I need you to-"

There wasn't time for Harry to breathe another word as Severus didn't need to be told twice. He pressed his lips, gently at first, against Harry's own, a soft give and take of power. He let Harry take the lead because he couldn't bare the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was taking  _advantage_ of the other in this state. But, it was Harry who had asked for it, Harry who pressed his lips against Severus's with bruising force and whined for the other to open his mouth and let their tongues caress, fiercely, recklessly, until they had to part for panting, with which Harry didn't give either of them nearly enough time to recover before he yanked Severus's by the front of his robes closer still, lips meeting and binding. Harry's teeth caught Severus's lower lip, and suddenly, Severus realized it was his turn to take control, to wrap his arm around Harry's slender waist and pull him close enough that they could both feel their  _wanting_ hard, and throbbing against one another's thigh. Harry's hips rose to the contact and the moan that escaped lips kissed raw was Snape's  _destruction_. 

Forgetting himself, Snape moved them until the bed hit Harry's knees and the boy had no choice but to fall back against it with a sharp laugh before reaching eagerly to shirk Severus of his own robes. Severus dropped his lips to Harry's neck with a kiss, nibble, and bite along the column of pale skin, exposed and begging. He growled with pleasure as Harry's nimble fingers tangled themselves in his hair and pulled him closer for more. Snape left his mark behind and revelled in the way Harry's hips rose to press his pleasure against his own, he ground his hips forward stimulate them both, causing Harry to moan again and lick his lips before they met again. Rough and wet and warm-Snape absently felt Harry's hands tearing at the buttons on his shirt, exposing his chest before the boy's nails cut deeply along his back, grinding Snape closer and with more intent against Harry's cock.

It wasn't until Snape realized Harry had unbuckled his belt and trousers that he realized if they continued much more, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Neither of them were ready for that, for different reasons.

"Harry-"

"No, not yet, please, don't stop-"

Snape couldn't resist his plea's and it became even harder when Harry's cool touch met the heat of his lengthy cock, hard and throbbing, "Potter-" Snape said through gritted teeth, unable to stop himself as he bucked his hips and slid his cock, wet with pre-cum against Harry's hand. Snape found his own hands moving of their own accord, sliding Harry's trousers over his slender hips, trying not to pay much attention to how sharp and bony his hips were. Harry lifted at the waist to let Snape shirk his trousers and boxers in their entirety, "We need to stop-"

"Don't you  _dare_ -" Harry moaned against Snape's neck, his teeth biting sharply at the soft exposed skin, causing Snape to hiss and reach roughly for Harry's own cock with his hand which he pumped rhythmically, matching Harry's own strokes, it wasn't until Harry's hand fell slack and his mouth parted with a moan that Snape positioned himself instead to take Harry's length in his mouth, eager to please the boy after all the pain he'd experience, "What-" Harry started, confused as the pressure of Snape's chest moved away from him, but the moment the Potions master let his lips engulf the tip of Harry's cock, the boy lost his words and jerked his hips forward, giving Snape his whole length.

Severus accepted greedily and his head bobbed, lips pressing against the base of Harry's cock, hand fondling his tight sack-it wouldn't be long now, Snape knew, a smirk on his lips as he tightened his lips and pressed the sweet spot just between Harry's cock and where his hand was massaging his balls-

"Sev-I'm-gods-" Harry's body tensed and stiffened, his hips lifted hard and bucked continuously as he came into Snape's mouth, Snape who swallowed every rope and didn't stop until the boy was completely finished, breathing heavily, body shuddering, and eyes closed. The sight of Harry Potter so satisfied and vulnerable before him had Snape ready to cum himself, but he quelled the urge and moved to lay on the bed next to a recovering Harry, "I-that was-" The boy could hardly speak around shudders and sighs, exhaustion, body spent from pleasure splayed carelessly. Harry moved to lift himself, to return the favor, but Snape only laughed gently and pressed a strong hand against Harry's chest in order to keep him in place, "But-"

"Another time, Harry, this was..."

"Oh, here we go-"

"It was too soon, we did too much. I-merlin, you know I want this, you felt it," Snape pointed out, gesturing to the way his thick cock was still erect and against his stomach, "But you need time to heal, and we both need time to set some boundaries until you come of age."

"You just had me moaning and writhing against you with my cock in your mouth, how is that any sort of boundary?" Harry wondered aloud, true curiosity evident in his tone, which made Snape laugh again, a sound Harry was coming to realize triggered something in his chest. A fluttering of sorts. It was a sound he didn't think he could ever get used to but wanted to hear all the time.

"We both have roles to play, we need to be careful," and at this, Harry agreed to with a nod, "If anyone found out it would be our lives in danger, forget everything else."

Harry swallowed thickly, "I know. You're right," he sighed and ran a hand over his face, a sheepish smile taking rent on his lips, "Fucking hell, though. I've never felt like that before. That's never...I mean to say I've never...you know-"

"Been with anyone?"

"No...er-"

"Cum?"

Harry blushed at Snape's brashness and nodded.

"Not even for yourself?" Snape wondered curiously.

"No, I never wanted to-" Harry couldn't finish his thought and it was only until he turned away from Snape to find his clothes that the man realized why Harry had never pleasured himself or been with anyone like that before.

Vernon Dursley had _stolen_ every innocent pleasure from him before he had even been able to experience it in earnest. Severus felt a twinge of pain blooming in his chest as he realized that Harry hadn't gotten to experience the awkward fumble of a first kiss. The serenity of pleasuring yourself in bed, able to escape from the world for just a small amount of time. Snape sat up then and watched Harry dress, eyes burning holes in the sharp ridges of Harry's spine, the angles that looked almost painful as they bent and fit, too small, into his clothing.

"I'm going to be escorting you to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, I spoke with the Headmaster about it and he believes it would be... _most comforting_ ," they both snorted at that and Harry moved forward until he was standing in between Snape's legs, "It was tactless, the way he told you, if I had known-"

"What's done is done," Harry said gently, warmed by the protectiveness in Snape's tone, and bent forward, with a confidence he suddenly seemed keen to possess, so he could press his lips gently against Severus's own. Snape was struck by how...mature Harry's response had been just before they separated, "Things are going to...be very different now, aren't they?" Harry asked the other softly.

"Immensely, yes."

"We didn't really get to-"

"There will be more time to talk, Harry," Snape assured him just before the boy turned away to head for the door, "You _will_ be at breakfast tomorrow and you _will_ eat a proper meal before we leave." It wasn't a question or an order. It was a fact, Harry could tell as much by the tone of his voice.  

Harry turned to look briefly over his shoulder with a smirk, feeling more whole than he had in a long time, "Yes, _Professor,_ " he teased.

 _Brat_ , Snape thought lightly to himself as he stood to ready himself for what would surely be a sleepless night. 

As he wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled to images of Harry's wanton body before him, to thoughts of Harry's hot cock pulsing against the back of his throat and his fingers pulling hard through his hair, Snape ignored the guilt that rose in his chest and came against his stomach instead, with Harry's name gently leaving his lips and an insatiable desire in his chest.

Harry Potter would be the death of him.


	29. In Which Harry is Forced to Hide the Truth Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys know the drill at this point!
> 
> Major trigger warning ahead: mentions of abuse and other self destructive behaviors.
> 
> Your comments are always appreciated and def inspire me to keep writing!

Harry was currently standing in Professor Dumbledore's office. They were waiting on Professor McGonagall, who was apparently stopping by with something important.

"Where's Sev-Professor Snape?" Harry asked curiously, it was nearly time to leave, and he didn't much like the idea that Snape was cutting it so close. His eyes had not left the hearth where Dumbledore had set up a temporary floo network to Grimmauld Place. Stepping into the flame would be the hardest part because he'd want it to consume him, rather than transport him to the hell that was waiting on the other side.

Dumbledore smiled gently, "There has been a slight change of plans, Professor Snape will be meeting you, your Aunt, and Uncle under Polyjuice potion at Grimmauld place just before you are set to leave for the service."

Harry blinked slowly and met Dumbledore's eyes finally. That meant he would be alone in Grimmauld place with the Dursley's until Snape got there. He supposed there was Kreacher, but that was hardly any sort of comfort. Harry swallowed thickly and dropped his gaze to his hands where they fiddled endlessly in his lap.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Harry?" asked Dumbledore as he leaned forward in his chair with his elbows perched against his desk.

Harry was saved from having to answer as Professor McGonagall entered then, with a small box, "Miss Granger told me you might not have anything suitable to wear to a muggle funeral."

In that moment, Harry was infinitely grateful for Hermione's keen eye and thoughtfulness. He hadn't even thought about that, he realized as he looked down at his jeans. With a flick of her wand, Harry was suddenly fitted with a pair of black dress pants, black shoes, and a button up shirt, dark green in order to make him look less morbid. Perhaps to bring out the color in his eyes so that they didn't get lost in the gauntness of his face.

"I--thank you, Professor, this is really--" Harry suddenly felt struck with emotion and Professor McGonagall pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder. 

"It's the least I could do, Potter," she assured softly, "My deepest condolences. This afternoon will be over before you know it, these things are often a blur." 

Harry was led to believe that she had a lot of experience with funerals and death, which he knew was true, based on those she had lost already what with the first war and...now this one. "Can you believe this is my first funeral?" It was a question that didn't require an answer, for the message behind it was one laden with guilt. All the people who were dead because of him and he'd never even gotten to say a final goodbye.

"It's time to go, Harry," Dumbledore insisted kindly and let Harry take his own floo powder, "Charlie Weasley will be stopping by to check in until Professor Snape can get there."

Harry nodded, the urge to ask why Snape had gotten held up fell silent in his mouth as he threw the powder into the fireplace and stepped into green flames. As he spun away, McGonagall was watching him sadly and Dumbledore looked as if he knew more than he was letting on, which haunted Harry to no end. 

If you know, stop me from going, Harry pleaded Dumbledore silently, sure if he knew something he would know this too. He could save him-

But as fleeting as his thought was as quick as he was stepping out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place-though he was not so graceful and rather fell out of the fireplace, crashed into the nearest chair and knocked a glass off the table so it could shatter. Loud enough to set Walburga off, her screams loud, more like shrieks bouncing off the desolate walls.

Fuck. He supposed hiding until Charlie got here was out of the question.

He sprinted quickly to the portrait room and yanked Mrs. Black's curtains shut with a few choice curses. The exertion of it had him stumbling backward, wishing he had eaten more for breakfast as he'd promised Severus he would. Merlin, all he wanted was to see the man. His presence was calming and would have made him feel safe, he realized as he left the room, which he currently felt anything but.

Harry closed the door behind him and turned back for the kitchen to clean up the broken glass. He knelt by it and picked up the larger pieces, only, he didn't get too far by the time loud, large footsteps sounded and he looked up to meet the eyes of Vernon Dursley, who appeared to have aged 20 years in the past few months.Harry didn't move from where he knelt to clean the glass he'd broken, but he was alert. Ready to bolt if he needed to.

"You killed my son."

The words cut through Harry, but the fact that Vernon was saying them, his voice slimy and cruel, Harry couldn't keep his nerves under wraps. He felt again like he had to 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir,' Vernon, to clean up after him, to expect a beating or...worse. Harry lowered his eyes and froze, refusing to look at his Uncle but he should have known better. He was the other man's prey, and he'd all but welcomed him to attack.

Before he could react, Vernon had crossed the room and shoved Harry to the ground roughly. He braced himself with his hands, glass cutting sharply into both palms before he scrambled away, "The funeral is in two hours-don't, Uncle Vernon, please, there's too much going on."

Harry hoped his plea would mean something, hoped his words would shatter his Uncle with grief as he quickly bent over the sink to run water over his hands and pull the shards of glass out of his palm in order to salvage them from the worst of it. He'd only just started to remove shards when Vernon's fist collided with the side of his face, pushing him from the sink, leaving Harry to grapple against the counter for purchase, but the glass in his hands dug deeper and he fell, unable to take the pain in order to keep himself on his feet. It was ironic, Harry thought then, how he could inflict so much pain on himself voluntarily but couldn't take it otherwise.

Vernon, as large as he was, wasted no time moving quickly to stand over him, "This is your fault, you're the reason my boy is dead, you fucking slut-"

Harry held up his arms to shield himself, but Vernon paid no mind and bashed him anyway, grabbed Harry by his hair and slammed his head against the floor so hard Harry was seeing stars.

"There are...people coming, Unc-"

"Are you threatening me?" asked Vernon,  his tone deadly and monstrous as his beefy fingers grabbed Harry around the throat, "You look pretty alone now, you useless, pathetic cunt-" Vernon snarled. 

Harry desperately reached behind him and grabbed the closest thing he could find, a chair leg, mustered all his strength to yank it forward and bash Vernon over the head with it, only he was too big, too strong and determined to destroy Harry there, underneath him.

He heard the clink of belt buckles and writhed under Vernon, was able to drive his knee upwards hard enough to turn around under Vernon's painful discomfort and dig his bloody finger nails into the floorboards to pull himself away. 

"Kreac-" Harry started desperately before his Uncle wrapped a hand over his mouth and squelched his summons. His pants were too loose, whatever McGonagall had bought for him was too big, for Vernon was able to slide them over his hips effortlessly, his heavy weight pressed punishingly against Harry's fragile frame.

"I'll make you feel the pain you've caused us, you deserve this-no one could ever fuck you this way, no one will ever fucking care about you, or your ruined cunt-" Vernon laughed and, without pause, shoved his meager cock into Harry, who let out a smothered scream, "You like that boy? That's right, you pathetic slut, scream for me, fucking freak, your kind would enjoy this!" Vernon grunted as he thrust, and Harry tried his best not to cry out in pain, sure Vernon had torn him and knowing that Vernon would find more pleasure in his cries, "I'm going to kill you when I'm done with you, boy, the rest of your freak family won't even care or remember your name. You're alone, you've got no one, nothing. You are useless. Nothing. Do us all a favor-" Vernon was spurred on by the cry that broke from Harry's throat and so he thrust harder, grabbed a handful of glass next to them and ground it against Harry's back, where his shirt had torn from Vernon's rough groping. 

Harry dug his teeth into Vernon's hand in order to cry out again for help, but Vernon grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed his face against the floor with a sickening crunch. Nose, glasses-Harry couldn't discern between either in time, for Vernon smashed his head against the floor again, and Harry lost all consciousness.

When he roused, Vernon was gone and Harry was desperate to leave the scene of the crime before anyone could see the disgusting mess he'd been reduced to. He pulled his clothes on hastily and called for Kreacher, "Please clean the kitchen spotless, not a trace that anyone was here left behind," Harry muttered, uncomfortable ordering a house elf around as he was, he knew Charlie would be here soon and he had to find a mirror in order to clean himself up. As he trekked the stairs carefully, he saw Vernon sitting on the edge of a bed where he realized his Aunt Petunia was lying. 

He watched them for a moment, Petunia hadn't moved but Vernon looked satisfied, proud of himself. Harry felt so nauseous he might've thrown up right then and there but he couldn't draw attention to himself again. Not after- he shook the painful thought, the memories that were eating him alive now, from the inside out.

He bolted before he could get lost in his despair and climbed the stairs to the very top so he could put as much space possible between himself and...them. He found himself on the top floor, in Sirius's bathroom. One look in the mirror told him there was no way to fix this.

He splashed cold water on his face and did his best to rid himself of blood. Once the red had drained from the sink, Harry looked himself full on, glasses smashed, nose broken...he buried his face gingerly in his hands.

"Kreacher-"

The elf appeared with a crack, only in the same moment, Mrs. Black's portrait screamed and Charlie Weasley's voice could be heard: 

"Oi, Potter, let's see you then, mate!"

He checked himself over again, hopefully, he could pass off that he'd fallen down the stairs, or...fuck.

Harry couldn't come up with a decent enough excuse and found himself bent double over the toilet, wretching bile and barely the remains of breakfast. He hurt all over, could barely see nor breathe from his nose.

"Heal me, Kreacher, fix my appearance anywhere people can see and you can have anything in the house that you want," Harry promised and met the wrinkled, grotesque face of the house elf bound to serve him, thanks to Sirius.

It took only moments of Kreacher muttering about filthy muggles and half blood scum, but Harry ignored it, "Anything you want, Kreacher, but don't speak a word to anyone about this."

"Master Harry has Kreacher's word-"

And the elf was gone, leaving Harry to straighten himself and leave the bathroom. His aches were severe, worse than he'd felt in weeks, even after the hell he put himself through. He grit his teeth and forced himself to take the stairs into the Kitchen, all signs of struggle, all signs of the rape and abuse...gone.

He swallowed gratefully and limped his way to Charlie, who had his arms outstretched for a hug, with which Harry met so gingerly, it was barely there at all.

"Harry, it's good to see you in person, letters never carry the same weight," Charlie insisted with a smile, his hug lingered, followed by his hands on Harry's shoulders. 

"I know what you mean," Harry agreed, his voice far quieter than it normally would have been. Sucking up the pain in all his bones, limbs, and otherwise came with a heavy price.  

"How are you holding up?" Charlie questioned, and Harry could hear the concern in his voice as he finally took in Harry's frame, as small as ever, even more so than usual over the summer holiday.

"I'm fine, really. We weren't close by any means...you heard about the bars on my windows second year," Harry pointed out, hoping that would save him from further explanation. 

"Right. But I can't imagine it was easy hearing about it," Charlie insisted and gave Harry's arm a gentle squeeze, "Here, I have something for you."

Harry flashed Charlie a look of confusion then, willing his mind not to linger on what Severus had said to him about Dumbledore's tactless reveal of Dudley's death. It hadn't been easy, for a multitude of reasons.

"You didn't have to-"

"I've had this for weeks for you, just didn't know when we'd see each other next," Charlie waved his concern off with a brush of his hand and pulled from his satchel a necklace, "The dragon you fought for the Triwizard Tournament lost a tooth, I snagged it for you and made this," Charlie gestured for Harry to turn around before he looped the rope around his neck and linked it together, "Wotcher, looks brilliant on ye'!" Charlie grinned as Harry looked down at the sharp tooth himself, "The jewels I added myself, for flair."

Harry laughed, a strange warmth filling his chest, "I don't know what to say, this is incredible," he admitted softly and reach to touch the tooth before he threw his arms around Charlie's neck, "Thank you for coming, I couldn't be here with them alone."

The damage, the worst of it had been done. He was safe now, at least.

"I ought to introduce myself-" Charlie started.

"No! They...don't take well to wizards. It's best to leave them until we go," Harry interjected before Charlie could get ahead of himself, "How about some tea?"

"Oi, fuck tea," Charlie answered and flicked his wand to reveal a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses. Harry took that as a reason to sit down, "Everything you've been through, I reckon this is well deserved," Charlie poured him a hefty helping, which Harry took greedily and finished the glass in one. Charlie raised an eyebrow and matched his candor before he poured them each another.

Harry nursed this one a bit longer, remembering that he was to be at Dudley's funeral soon with Severus no less. He didn't think Snape would take well to him drinking, especially not in the company of his Aunt and Uncle. It wasn't hard for him to pretend everything was alright, that he didn't feel torn apart inside, that his shoulder wasn't still stinging from where Dursley has punished him with glass. He reached back to touch the spot and was surprised when his hand came away with a thin film of blood. In his hurry to greet Charlie and his eagerness at leaving what had happened in the kitchen behind him, Harry had torn open his wound. Kreacher must have taken his words incredibly specific, not expecting his back to be somewhere people would see.

"Harry? What's happened to your back?" Charlie wondered gently as he set down his own glass and stood to get a closer look.

"Nothing, it's fine-" Harry insisted and tried to hide the blood on his fingers by smearing them across his black pants in haste, "Really, Charlie, don't-" but Weasley paid him no mind and reached for the collar of Harry's shirt in order to peer down at the secrets hiding there.

The gasp that came from Charlie's mouth was enough for Harry to try and pull away, but the other kept him rooted firmly in place with a strong hand. Harry's eyes closed and he ran a hand over his face in shame, "Who did this to you?" Harry was taken aback by the protective rage in Charlie's voice, "All those scars-"

"Voldemort," the lie rolled off of his tongue so easily he hardly missed a beat and hope the shock of the name would throw Charlie off his trail, only Charlie scoffed and turned Harry's chair with easy.

"So, You-Know-Who was here recently to give you that nasty wound on your back, freshly bleeding as well?" Charlie grabbed his wand off of the table and gestured at Harry, "Unbutton the top few on your shirt and let down the back a bit so I can fix you up."

Harry hesitated, but Charlie sounded calm and...almost pained as he offered his assistance. Harry obliged and shifted his shirt just slightly, hoping to get away with the least amount of exposure possible, only Charlie reached with a warm, calloused hand and lowered it just a bit more to inspect the scars Vernon had left behind ages ago. He started as Charlie ran his fingertips down the bones that protruded in Harry's spine, "Angel wings," Charlie said quietly as he ran his fingers over his jutting shoulder blades, "Mum used to say that to us when we were lanky kids, all bones and arms and legs. Our shoulder blades looked like angel wings."

Harry smiled at the memory and turned to look over his shoulder at Charlie with a wince as it jostled his skin, "I like the sound of that," he admitted. It was kinder than the reality.

Charlie was quiet then as he set to work, healing the wound on Harry's back until the skin was fresh, if a little red and raw, "You look like you're dying, Harry. You've always been thin, but seeing your back like this-" Harry moved to quickly pull his shirt on, but Charlie stopped him and his fingertips again grazed softly along Harry's spine, raising the hair on his neck and spread gooseflesh in Charlie's wake, "I care about you, Harry. If someone was hurting you, you'd tell me, right?"

Wrong.

"Of course, Charlie, but I'm fine. The scars are...from the past and, to be honest I got in a duel ugh Malfoy before the holiday and didn't heal my shoulder right, honest."

 He heard Charlie sigh, but the other didn't comment further and Harry pulled his shirt on, before he could do the top few buttons, Charlie had taken Harry's hands in his own, "I've enjoyed writing with ye'. You're more to me than just Ron's friend, ye' know that? And I mean it, if you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask. And if I found out that you were lying to me and something was happening to you, I'd kill the bastard, alright?"

Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest and nodded with a smile, surprised by the sheen of tears in his eyes. Charlie certainly noticed and dropped his eyes to Harry's bare chest, "Let me-" he reached to do Harry's buttons, surprising the boy with the sudden intimacy of that moment. Charlie was so close to him and didn't seem to mind when his fingers brushed Harry's skin. Charlie lingered on the last button and met Harry's eyes again, he appeared to be struggling with something.

"Charlie, are you alright?"

"I'm...debating whether or not I should kiss you, to be honest." 

Harry's cheeks burned red-hot, and Charlie chuckled softly. Just as Harry was sure Charlie was leaning in, close enough to feel the other's breath on his skin, the fireplace roared and out stepped Severus.

Both of them jumped apart, Harry red faced and Charlie clearly annoyed at the interruption, "Snape," he greeted glibly and reached for his glass.

"Weasley, drinking so soon?" Snape's lip curled and his eyes surveyed the table, taking note of the other glass, the flush on Potter's face, and the way the boy was averting his gaze, "Truly, Mr. Potter, I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand how serious it is to be in your right mind today, of all days," Snape's words were measured, weighted, and slow. There was so much more than disdain behind his voice, there was disappointment as well, perhaps laced with concern.

Harry felt the fire in his cheeks burn hotter, "I'll go get my-yeah," he mumbled and turned away from both men in a hurry to save himself further embarrassment. As he ascended the stairs, Charlie and Severus watching his retreating back, he paused on the landing to catch his breath, hand to his chest.

Would Charlie really have kissed him? Would Harry of kissed him back? What if Snape has seen? His sheer moment of panic was filled with more trepidation as he knocked on the room he'd seen the Dursley's in earlier. He couldn't look either of them in the eye as they looked towards him...one with malice and the other with desire. Harry shuddered, "Professor Sn-our escort is here."

At that, he spun away before he could give either his aunt or uncle time enough to berate him, as they were want to do.

As he approached the door to the kitchen again, he heard Snape and Charlie speaking in muffled tones:

"-said he got into a duel with Malfoy and didn't heal himself properly and it reopened! If that ferrett little Death Eater to-be is going to injure Harry, I expect you to do something about it."

"Not that I need to assure you of anything, Weasley, but alas, I assure you I have taken care of it. I healed Harry myself after their duel and can vouch that he was healed completely-"

He winced, knowing that both Snape and Charlie would be piecing together his lies. He waited until he heard his Aunt and Uncle in the stairs before he burst into the kitchen to interrupt both men. Charlie was staring at him, clear concern etched in his face, while Snape looked a mixture of murderous and pitying.

"You may want to drink that now, Professor, if you hope to conceal your identity," Harry recommended. Severus uncorked the vial, staring long and hard at Harry who could feel the gentle probes being thrown at his mind. He sharply turned away and stepped forward to give Charlie a hug. Charlie's arms lingered longer than normal and were tighter, too.

Over his shoulder, Harry noticed how Severus, who no longer looked like Severus, was staring long and hard at how low Charlie's hand was on Harry's back. 

"Write me when this is all over, yeah?"

"Yeah, Charlie," Harry smiled, the heat rising in his cheeks again as Charlie winked at him and cast one final unimpressed look at Snape.

Aunt Petunia and Vernon entered the room then, and no one could have prepared Harry for what was going to happen next.

 


	30. In Which Severus Learns That Harry Enjoys Gardening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing these past few chapters on my phone lmao, forgive my grammatical mistakes ya'll.
> 
> Usual warnings and disclaimers apply.

As Aunt Petunia's eyes fell on Harry, he visibly cringed. Her stare was so empty and unseeing that he didn't think she saw him at all. It wasn't until she moved forward with measured steps that Harry tensed. Was he supposed to _hug her_? _Apologize_?

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could form his words, she pulled back her hand and slapped him sharply across the face, "It should have been you, I wish it had been you. I wish we'd kicked you off our doorstep and left you to die all those years ago. Your kind have caused my family nothing but trouble, first my s-sister and now m-my only s-son!" Petunia sobbed into her hand then and pounded her fists against Harry's chest. He stood there and took it, eyes burning hot with tears, "I don't want you there today, I want you to go back to the hole you crawled out of and I never want to see you again-"

"That's _enough_ ," Snape's voice was loud and booming, stopped Petunia in her tracks and had her shrinking back against Vernon in her grief, "I am here to escort Harry and provide him my protection. Not you. There is a car outside waiting, I trust you can find your way."

Petunia and Vernon didn't say another word as they turned for the door. Mrs. Black screamed as the front door slammed behind them and Harry pressed a hand to his chest with a sob. His knees were weak, but before he could collapse, Snape had wrapped his arms around Harry from behind and held him tightly to his chest.

"It's alright, Harry, let it out," Snape said quietly and so, Harry did. His sobs were loud and ugly, so wrought with pain and guilt that he thought it might suffocate him. He held tight to Severus's arms around his chest and they waited out his sobs together.

When they finally separated, Harry dropped weakly into the chair he'd previously occupied and buried his face in his hands, "She's right."

"For as long as I've known your Aunt, Harry, she has been a cruel, jealous woman, hell bent on blaming everyone else in the world for her failures and the obstacles she has faced. I daresay she is more of a petulant child than you have ever been," The tone in Snape's voice was teasing, and Harry realized the man was trying to make him feel better. If Harry didn't know him as well as he did now, he might've thought it was a dig.

"How long have you known my aunt?" Harry wondered and wiped the tears from his face before he looked up at Snape, eyes trained carefully just above his shoulder-he couldn't bring himself to meet the other's gaze, he knew Severus would see right through him. 

Snape hesitated and sat in the chair Charlie had previously occupied, "Strangely enough, we grew up near each other. I met her and your mother at the park when we were 10."

Harry raised his eyebrows, "Really? I had no idea-"

"I would not have expected you to," Snape agreed with a nod of his head. When Harry looked as if he was going to ask more questions, "A story for another time." Harry didn't press any further, though he felt delirious with all the possibilities. Had Snape known his mother? 

Harry reached slowly for his glass and took a tentative sip despite the way Snape who didn't look like Snape was raising a judgemental eyebrow and still somehow looked enough like himself that Harry felt as if he was about to be reprimanded, "After the morning I've had, I don't want to hear it," Harry muttered around another bitter sip before he pursed his lips.

"What happened to you before Weasley got here?"

Harry finished his glass instead of answering and reached for the bottle again, Snape stopped him then and moved the bottle away before Harry could ignore him further. He sighed and dropped his shoulders, looking infinitely smaller, as if he could pull so far into himself that he would disappear, "Nothing, I don't want to talk about it."

"I know he hurt you-"

"Just leave it."

"Weasley said he had to heal you from your fight with Draco-"

"Snape, enough."

"I know that to be a lie because I healed you myself. So, the wound Charlie healed was clearly fresh. From your Uncle," Snape hesitated then, Harry's chest heaving, "What I'm asking is if your Uncle raped you here, Harry."

Harry was seething, he'd asked Snape to stop, not to push him. He didn't want to think about what had happened only a few hours ago on top of everything else that was running through his head, "Harry?" Snape reached to take Harry's hand in his own, but Harry smacked it away and pushed himself to his feet instead.

"Fuck off, stay away from me," Harry spat and turned his back on Snape to exit the kitchen, unaware that Snape had risen and was following him, annoyance on his face at Harry's rude dismissal. Harry moved to open the door to the kitchen but Snape reached above him with a strong hand and slammed it shut as quickly as it had opened, "Leave me alone, it's none of your business-" Harry hissed through gritted teeth and turned around to shove Snape away from him once, twice. Harry made to shove the man again, only Severus moved quicker and grabbed Harry by his wrists.

"You will not succeed in pushing me away, stop trying. I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what he did to you. Or...show me." 

Fear crossed Harry's features at the prospect of Snape seeing him that way, vulnerable and disgusting, pressed against the floor by Vernon's sweaty weight, suffocated by Vernon's beefy hands. Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, nausea consuming him the same way these memories were, the ones he'd been trying to ignore, "It's not going to help anything, I just want to forget it."

"Forgetting it won't help you, Harry. Facing it and growing stronger from it might," Severus urged gently and waited for Harry to oblige him. Harry swallowed thickly around the bitter taste in his mouth, quelled the urge to wretch his meager breakfast on the floor in front of them, and turned to face Snape fully.

"I thought if I could hide from him until it was time to go, it would be fine. But I practically begged him to find me with the way I fell out of the fireplace. I broke a glass and Mrs. Black's portrait started screaming...so I ran to take care of that and when I came back to clean up the glass he was there," Harry extracted himself from Snape and nodded toward the door. Snape didn't stop him as he reached to pour himself another drink, only watched with an unreadable expression on his face, "I was cleaning up the broken bits with my hands and he started over and shoved me down, glass and all. And then he was on top of me, hitting me. I tried to fight back and was able to roll over so I could slide out from under him but he caught up to me and slid my pants off-he covered my mouth so I couldn't call for Kreacher." 

Harry sipped largely from his glass and shook his head, "He grabbed a handful of glass and ground it against my shoulder, that's what Charlie saw. And then he-" Harry swallowed thickly again and refused to finish his sentence. He was sure by the look on Severus's face that the man understood what had happened, "I fought back but he grabbed me by the hair and slammed my face against the floor. It broke my nose and then he did it again until I...lost consciousness. When I came 'round, I begged Kreacher to fix me up, so he did."

His eyes were glued to the place on the floor where he'd woken up, pants around his knees, body on fire.

"Worst part of it all is that I didn't blame him, _I killed their son_ , I deserve to be fucked like a pig. Defiled like the ' _slut_ ' I am," Harry laughed bitterly and turned to look at Snape then, "I know, I disgust you, right? I'm revolting, it should have been me. I wish it was."

Snape didn't say anything, was afraid of what he might say if he allowed himself to speak. There was a sickening kind of rage building inside him, starting in his chest and leaking through his veins. He was more enraged than he had been when he stood in front of that disgusting rat Pettigrew who betrayed Lily and realized he couldn't do anything about it. He was more enraged than when Dumbledore had asked Snape to kill him.

"If I were ever to cross paths with that vile, pathetic excuse for a man again...I would torture him until he begged for death. And then I would torture him some more."

"Best be gone before they come back then."

"We will both be gone before they come back. I'll send word to the Headmaster about what happened here-"

" _No_!"

Snape let out a sigh, "I will tell the Headmaster that your Aunt slapped you and dis-invited you to the service, that I sent them on their own in the Ministry vehicle, and that we will be leaving Grimmauld place. Dumbledore will have to suck it up and send another to cater to those _monsters,_ " when Harry didn't object, Snape moved to the fire and placed only his head in those green flames. Harry wondered briefly where they might be going, but as Snape stood and floo-ed himself to Spinner's End with a muttered Prince, Harry's question had been answered and he followed behind.

They did not speak once they entered Snape's living room. The man set to flicking his wand and lighting the room while Harry surveyed his surroundings, far more intrigued than he had been the last time he was here.

It was not at all what he expected.

"Is what you see to your liking?" Snape asked gently as he came up behind Harry, the sudden closeness causing him to start.

"I-yeah, it's just different than I expected," he admitted, "Last time we were here, I wasn't exactly, er-"

"Paying attention to detail? Sure I wasn't going to kill you?" They both smiled then and Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"It's homier than I would have thought," he expected Snape to quip back with something sarcastic like, 'being that this is my home,' but Snape's response surprised him.

"When you have to live the way I do, it helps to have one place you can go and feel entirely yourself. No facade," Snape met Harry's eyes then and there was something underneath, something painful and striking. It was so intense that Harry had to look away, "I want to help you, Harry. In order to do that, you will have to let me in."

Harry nodded, though they both knew that it wouldn't be nearly as simple as that. Harry was stubborn and felt like he had to conquer the world on his own. The number of times Harry knew he would push and pull Snape away were endless. But he was desperate for Severus to care about him, "But...just not today, right? Can we just...leave that back there?" Harry tried hopefully, and Severus fought the urge to chuckle at the brightness of Harry's eyes, as if he were a child on Christmas. A child with a happy family, at least. Not like the families either of them grew up with.

"Alright, not today. Nor tonight," as he agreed, Harry looked a million times lighter.

"Will you...show me around? Properly, I mean?" He looked hopeful again, so hopeful that Snape realized he could not say no to the man even if he desperately wanted to. Snape shirked his cloak, and Harry was happy to realize that he looked like himself again. Hair tied back serenely, his face sharp angled and strong jawed.

"As you can see, this is my den. Or study, as you will," Snape introduced with a flatness to his tone that Harry couldn't help but smirk at. Stating the obvious.

"Which poet is your favorite?" Harry inquired softly, feeling as if his question was a stupid one, but he'd caught sight of a few tomes in Snape's personal library that were familiar to him. 

The surprise on the man's face was, again, laughable, but Harry chose not to comment and, instead, waited for an answer, "Ginsberg, for now, at least. I find my poetic taste varies," Snape looked as if he'd mulled over that answer before, which caused Harry to nod appreciatively.

"I'd have to agree. I used to collect coins around the house until I saved up enough for a library card. I suppose that's why my marks on your summer work were always dismal. I was wrapped up in 'Howl' and 'America'," Harry admitted, a sheepish flush overtaking his cheeks, expecting a further reprimand.

Severus looked upon him fondly then, "I daresay I underestimated you, Potter," it was teasing comment, one which Harry accepted gratefully as he followed Severus throughout the rest of his home. Snape led him through the kitchens, the dining room, a spare room in which he stated that he practiced potions and his own spell creations. When they reached the bedroom, Snape merely opened the door and let Harry enter himself, alone, "I'm sure even you can discern what this room is," again, Harry was struck by Snape's dry sense of humor. Deprecating and all that, sure, but not meant to insult, and Harry found himself wondering how many times Snape had said something to him or any student, for that matter, and it had been misconstrued as a great insult.

The thought swelled inside him enough to warm his chest and leave him feeling as carefree as he had in ages. 

Without a second thought, Harry dropped back against Snape's bed, careless as to what the man might think or feel about that. He was suddenly exhausted, "You'll have to tell me where you find your mattresses, I can't remember the last time I've laid on a bed this comfortable," Harry admitted, the earnest innocence in his voice intoxicating enough to spur Snape forward into the room, closing the door behind him despite the fact that they were the only ones here. He perched himself on the chaise at the foot of his bed and leaned backward on his forearms, creating a sort of t-shape between him and Harry as he knew if he dropped his head back, he'd be able to rest it against the boy's taut stomach.

"How long have you lived here?" Harry asked, his voice marred with curiosity and an eagerness to know more, so much more.

"My entire life. I've remodeled dramatically, of course," Snape answered quietly, his eyes closing as he did, finally, drop his head to rest against Harry's stomach. Absently, Harry's hand rose to comb his fingers through the loose strands of hair framing Severus's face. 

"Do you have any siblings?"

Snape thought the question was laughable but realized, after all these years of knowing Potter, there would be no way that he could know anything about his past. Save for that one ludicrously embarrassing moment-"No, it was me, my mother, and father," the last word was spat with so much vehemence, Harry pushed himself up onto his own elbows and looked down at Snape's closed eyes until they opened.

"Was he the one who gave you those scars?"

Severus hesitated to answer. He'd never shared this with anyone before. Not Lily, not Dumbledore, nor Lucius Malfoy. Something about Harry was so disarming, he found himself overwhelmed with the urge to leap up and shove the boy off of his bed and out of his bedroom, only...a larger part of him couldn't fathom the idea of letting Harry slip away from him, "He was. He had a...cruel sense of discipline. It didn't help that he was a raging drunk, either," Snape's words were cold. Cold and so unfeeling that Harry might've thought a Dementor had elicited this response-only there was no one else in the room, and he realized that he had been the one to elicit this.

"I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for? You didn't-"

"I know. It's just...no one deserves that."

"Dishing out advice that you won't take yourself?" Snape questioned, and though his voice was almost lilted, Harry could hear the deeper meaning behind his words. He chose not to press it further, though he felt empty as Snape sat up and left his stomach feeling punishingly empty.

Snape sighed and, in response, Harry pushed himself up off of the bed, "On that note..." he trailed off disparagingly and looked around Snape's room, delighted to see that he had two closets, "Can I have a look?"

Severus looked at him with a raised eyebrow, curious as to what Harry Potter might want with his closets, "I suppose," he drawled, his confusion spurring Harry even further.

He opened the first closet door and took in the seamless organization of shirts (by color) and trousers (by style). His eyes dropped to the floor and found shoes, also sorted by color, from black to very light beige. In the next closet, he found robes in the same sort of organization and realized that Severus had sorted his muggle clothes and wizard clothes by closet, "This is brilliant," Harry admitted, cringing at how daft he sounded.

"I merely appreciate useful organization," Snape said, sounding exasperated though he was wildly amused.

"I honestly never thought that you might have muggle clothing," Harry admitted as he closed both doors and turned instead to the dresser, "Are your socks color and drawer coordinated too?" He wondered idly as he reached to open the top drawer, to which Snape was on his feet and held it closed.

"Yes, Potter, everything is coordinated and orderly, I won't have you mucking it all up," Snape insisted, delighting Harry in a way he couldn't possibly understand.

"Gods, you're so anal even Hermione would appreciate it!" Harry quipped with a laugh, causing Snape to furrow his brows which, in turn, caused Harry to roll his eyes, "You may have some preconceived notion of "us Gryffindor lot" but Hermione is the best in our year, with organization that rivals even yours."

Snape felt like an owl with ruffled feathers. His dedication to organization, albeit, obsessive and compulsive had never been rivaled before, and certainly not by a Gryffindor.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, all I'm saying is, if you dropped the animosity you might actually be able to appreciate what Hermione brings into a classroom. She really is intelligent. Wise beyond-"

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Snape said then before he could stop himself.

Harry's face lit red and he stumbled over his words and found that he couldn't form a true sentence, "I-not-why-no!" It was Snape's turn to revel in the other's embarrassment. He reached softly then took hold of Harry's chin in his hand.

"You look peaky. It's been hours since breakfast, you need to eat. And so do I, for that matter," Snape added, hoping the words would give Harry strength enough to suck up the idea that he needed a genuine meal. As Snape started for the kitchen, Harry lingered behind with one last longing look at the room and wished he could crawl under the covers and hide away from the daunting prospect of eating, "What is it you like to eat?" Snape asked him casually, opening the pantry before he turned to look at Harry.

"I'm really not very hungry, Severus. I had a large breakfast-"

"Don't lie to me, Harry-"

"How would you know I'm lying? You weren't even around this morning and I had to go alone-"

Snape's lips were pursed in a thin line, his eyes narrowed and fixated on Harry and he was so strikingly similar to the Professor Snape, the loathsome potions master that Harry felt as if he'd crossed a line. Something he'd not thought was possible after everything. At long last, Snape sighed and looked away from Harry, turned back to the pantry to sift though his preserves, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to escort you myself, something came up."

"Voldemort came up, you mean?"

"Unfortunately, Potter, you are not privileged enough to request the confidential nature of this information," Snape said callously, with measured words and dripping sarcasm. Harry knew Snape was putting it in on purpose to irk him, "Spaghetti Bolognese?" Snape suggested, pulling a box of pasta and holding it up for Harry to see.

"No."

"Beef stew?"

"No."

"Mince pie?"

"No."

"Pancakes?"

"What? No."

"Stir fry."

"Can you really cook all of these dishes? No."

"Yes, Harry. I am actually quite cooking profound," Snape milled over the rest of his stock and sighed, "Enough with this, I'm making pasta. I've seen you eat it at meals before."

Harry resisted the urge to smack the box out of Snape's hand and turned his back on him with his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. Begrudgingly, he sat on the stool in front of the island counter and watched as Severus moved about the kitchen retrieving pots and measuring cups and other cooking instruments Harry hadn't seen before. It was so...bizarre seeing Severus like this. So human and oddly comfortable in his home, relaxed. He wanted to say something about it now, but he was too busy sulking at Snape's coddling.

"You don't have to treat me differently now...just because you know," Harry said quietly, at long last and drew invisible circles into the countertop, tracing each loop with his eyes to avoid looking at Snape as he turned around. In his peripherals, he saw Severus unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them to just below his elbow, exposing that toned forearm Harry had been surprised to see the first time.

"Our relationship has shifted dramatically, perhaps this is how it will be from now on."

"I just mean...you don't have to coddle me or be easy on me or anything because-"

"I assure you, Potter, I don't posses a coddling bone in my entire body. And, truly, have you ever known me to be easy on anyone?" Snape raised an eyebrow at him, which Harry saw because he was looking at the man now. Harry shrugged a shoulder in response, "Daresay, Harry, you are making it hard not to treat you differently, considering everything you're doing to yourself screams for it," Snape chipped in before he turned his back to the stove.

"How?" Harry asked incredulously, arms crossed defiantly over his chest again. There was no way he wanted anyone to treat him differently or...with pity! That was the last thing he was trying to do.

The silence between them was long and measured and Harry knew that Snape was figuring out how to word his next sentence so that it wouldn't trigger Harry further. He resisted the urge to say 'out with it already!' or 'see, this is what I mean'. Old Snape wouldn't have cared for Harry's feelings at all. But then, Snape had a point when he'd said their relationship was different now. Snape didn't want to hurt him anymore, in fact, this showed that he cared.

"Harry, you're killing yourself and you have been since you got to Hogwarts this year. You've been starving yourself, cutting yourself, and mentally brutalizing yourself. Of course everyone is going to treat you differently, they love you, and they're desperately concerned. We all are. This needs to stop, and it's stops now," Snape insisted, leaving the water to boil and the base of his sauce to heat. He braced his hands on the counter in front of Harry and leaned just slightly forward to force Harry to look him in the eyes, "I have already told you that I care about you. Making you happy as well as healthy is going to be one of my priorities, do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry drawled with a cheeky smirk, warmed by Severus's sentiment. 

"You cheeky-" Snape started and moved forward quickly to flick Harry on the nose, but his reflexes were quicker and he is able to spin away with a laugh. They are standing on opposite sides of the counter then, surveying each other severely-though there is a foreign look in Snape's eyes that Harry, with a shock, realizes is playfulness. As Snape runs his next move over in his head, determining the most plausible course of action, Harry takes the chance to slowly work his way around the counter with purpose and Snape watches him like a hawk. When the other catches on to what he's doing, it's too late, for Harry has a handful of flour and is already launching it at Snape who goes stone-still.

Harry himself freezes, sure that he has finally crossed a line and as he opens his mouth to apologize, Snape let's out a laugh is quick and nimble in his efforts to trap Harry in his arms, "I wonder if you're ticklish, Mr. Potter-"

Before Harry can protest, Snape has done the worst thing he could have, and Harry is reduced to uncontrollable laughter without any control over his limbs. Despite his lightness, he and Severus manage to land on the ground, with Snape straddling his hips, both of them have their chests heaving with exertion, and Snape leans forward to press his lips again Harry's who eagerly reciprocates and pulls Severus all the more against him.

It isn't until Snape pulls away, looking at him hungrily, that Harry realizes how similar this situation is. In a kitchen, straddled, powerless--his face must have changed because in the span of two seconds, Snape has stood and is helping Harry to his feet, "That was utterly reckless of me, Harry. I apologize," Snape insisted but Harry wouldn't hear it and brushed him off, "We are going to need to talk about the things that trigger you. The things that aren't okay."

"One day," Harry said with an agreeable nod, shoving flashes of Vernon from his head. Snape watched Harry regrettably, but kept his wits about him and didn't push any further, "I'm really exhausted, I might just have a lie down-"

"Nice try. After we eat you can do whatever your heart desires," Snape drawls and sets about dropping the pasta in boiling water before he pulls ingredients from his fridge, it's only then that Snape realizes they are both coated in flour and flicks his wand to clean them. Harry takes note again of the intense organization and opens the nearest cabinet to find much of the same rigid style, "When you are done perusing my china, strange boy, pop into the garden-" Snape pointed to the door just in front of him, "-just there, and bring me some fresh basil."

Harry obliged only when he looked down at Snape's garden, he couldn't find basil for the life of him, and the weeds had overgrown, no doubt neglected by Snape's duties at Hogwarts and...otherwise. From sheer force of habit, Harry dropped to his knees and started to pull the weeds by their roots building a small pile alongside him. He'd been at it for a good 15 minutes before Snape's long shadow cast over him and he tilted his head upwards, causing the man to appear upside down.

"Do you not know what basil looks like?" Snape asked, pulling the washcloth he'd tucked into his back picket so he could wipe his hands, that was when he caught sight of the dirt on Harry's skin and under his nails, "Are you weeding my garden?" He asked incredulously.

Harry dropped his head again embarrassed and reached to pull some basil, now visible against the dirt, "I don't mind it, it used to be my favorite chore actually. I find it very relaxing," he admitted earnestly. 

"If you insist," Snape said, his words laced with curiosity and undoubtedly more surprise. He was learning more about Harry Potter with every passing day. 

He felt like he could get used to this.


	31. In Which Harry and Severus Please One Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I NEED SOME HELP.
> 
> I'm lost on my direction with this story, I know sort of where I'm headed, and I apologize that Harry's sixth year is going to be terribly drawn out in order to fit all of it in. Call it creative freedom, or suspend your disbelief, whatever helps you stomach the extensive events that are going to come. Including an interesting meeting with Draco, the inclusion of an original male character, continued fluff and angst moments with Snape, and far more disclosure than Harry was given by book 7.
> 
> On that note, I have a terrible dilemma. I'm debating having Harry, Ron, and Hermione secretly staying in Hogwarts at times during the 7th book. Not always, for there are immensely important things that happen on the run, but...if Harry and Snape are truly in this for the long haul, I think it might be interesting for the trio to get a look inside the castle walls, all while finding the horcruxes/hallows.
> 
> Let me know what you think about that in the comments. I don't want to terribly destroy this story with creative liberty-but I'm hard-pressed leaning towards that option and would defo appreciate some opinions! Comments feed my muse, and youse have been incredible lately!
> 
> Trigger warnings as always, because I never know where my muse is going to take me, but it's typically dark. Usual disclaimers apply.

Harry was content to take his time in the garden while Severus was cooking for them inside. It was strangely domestic, and Harry found himself grinning at the thought, all previous memories of the day forgotten. Each weed he pulled led him more into a relaxed state of not-quite-meditation, but something like it. He wondered if Luna would be proud of him, having preached meditation to him previously, saying he might do well to rid himself of Nargles and Wrackspurts, who were hell-bent on fuzzifying the brain. If there were any Nargles around, Harry hoped they were turned off by his calmness.

It was quite a useless skill, he realized, but plucking weeds from the dirt was satisfying. He was removing these life-sucking fuckers from the live plants. A thought struck him as he was plucking and he sat back on his heels to call into the kitchen with curiosity, "Have you cast a warming charm on your garden? It's bitter cold and yet-"

"Of course I have, Harry. Speaking of, did you not think to grab a coat when you left the castle?" Snape chastised with a sigh.

Harry found himself grinning, "I didn't think of it, to be honest. I like the cold, anyway," being that he never really had proper warm clothes from the Dursley's in his youth, he'd grown accustomed to the bitter air nipping at his skin, "You really ought not let the weeds grow over so much, they'll kill your garden," Harry advised quietly, half hoping Snape would hear him testing his Herbology.

"Surprising your marks weren't higher in Herbology with this unknown skill," the other drawled, feeling slightly miffed at Harry's mild reprimand.

"Yeah, well, after second year, I thought I'd leave the Mandrake maturing to Professor Sprout. Something about the screams knocking you unconscious and curing petrification just turned me off," Harry chipped in, remembering the unfortunate first class they dealt with Mandrake's when Neville had fainted. And then when Hermione lay in a hospital bed, petrified by the Basilisk.

Speaking of, as Harry was finishing his final plant-bed, he caught sight of a green garden snake, small and wriggling carelessly, though he paused when he caught sight of Harry, much bigger and threatening than he. _"Oh, hello, you."_

He didn't realize he was speaking Parseltongue until the snake answered, _"Who might you be?"_

_"My names Harry, what's yours?"_

_"I've never been given a name."_

_"Would you like one?"_

_"I don't know, a silly question to ask a garden snake."_

_"How about.."_ Harry paused in thought and wiped his hands on his trousers, _"Chester?"_

 _"Chester?"_ The snake seemed to mull this over, his tongue flicking softly, _"I suppose."_

Harry laughed, _"Chester, the garden snake with an attitude. Do you live here?"_

Chester seemed to nod, _"It's warm year round, and the food supply is essentially endless. Could you grow more mint? I especially enjoy that."_

Their conversation continued, first buzzing with curiosity before it turned into casual banter and Chester the snake climbing up Harry's arm to loop around his shoulders. When Snape came to tell Harry dinner was ready, he found Harry sprawled on his back in the lawn, letting the snake wind his way around Harry's outstretched arms. Severus didn't say anything at first, struck by how impossibly innocent Harry could still be, despite everything he'd been through. He was caught off guard by the resilience.

Only deigning to interrupt for the purpose of Harry's health, Snape cleared his throat, "Dinner's ready. Wash your hands thoroughly before you sit at my table," he added, noticing how grubby Harry's hands were from weeding his garden so thoroughly. It looked better than it had in ages. As Harry set down the snake and slipped past Severus, tiny and without so much as a touch, the other cleared the weeds with disappearing charm and looked down at the snake with a raised brown, "You will not be entering this house." The snape hissed and, despite the fact that Snape could not understand snakes the way Harry could, he knew the reptile had gotten his message.

When Harry returned to the table, looking markedly cleaner than he had before, Snape dished pasta onto both of their plates, a vodka sauce that looked and smelled delicious followed suit, and Snape had already charmed Harry's water glass to refill itself, " _Bon appetit_ ," he added quietly and tucked into his own meal, while Harry seemed only to play with his own.

"It smells delicious," the boy said softly, and Severus took careful note of the way Harry was pushing around his noodles, "It looks delicious," and eyeing them at the same time, with no movement of the fork to mouth.

"The taste is acceptable as well. We won't leave the table until you finish your plate, Potter, I suggest you being or your new friend will get lonely," Snape added as an incentive, to which Harry seemed to brighten and speared a lone piece of penne.

"I'd forgotten I could talk to snakes." Harry admitted, nibbling the end of his pasta, "I haven't since the Chamber," he added thoughtfully with a shrug.

There was silence then, in which Harry speared another single noodle and nibbled at it appreciatively, resisting the urge to stuff his entire face with the dish before him, "It really is quite good-"

"I don't understand how you thought it was a good idea to fight a basilisk at only twelve years old. Fully grown wizards with tons of experience have been felled in a single moment," Snape cut in before Harry could go on about their meal. Snape didn't care about that anymore, only that Harry ate it...and seamlessly clarified what his pre-pubescent-self had been thinking.

Harry mulled this over, and Severus noted that he shoveled a forkful of noodles in his mouth without nibbling. So, getting Potter to chat about his experiences was one way, so long as he didn't push too hard, "I had to save Ginny. For Ron. For all the Weasley's. They're my family," Harry said at long last, and Severus was struck by the selflessness of the statement, "I thought Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin for the longest time, you won't believe-er, nevermind," Harry cut himself off swiftly, and shove another forkful of pasta into his mouth in order to avoid speaking, which Severus caught onto very quickly. He set down his fork, dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin, and reached for his wine.

"Do tell, Harry."

"You'll take a thousand points from Gryffindor, there's no way I'm telling you shit," Harry mumbled, spearing a piece of pasta aggressively as he returned t his nibbling tactic.

Snape sighed, resigned to what he was about to say, "Anything that has happened in past years is not subject to my judgment. What has been done is done," there was a finality in his voice which brought a grin to Harry's lips, leaving Snape to regret what he'd just said.

"Merlin, you have no idea-"

"I don't deign to imagine I can match a Gryffindor's insane disregard for rules and personal safety," Snape drawled, his plate nearly finished as he leaned back in his chair, an arm draped over his stomach, his glass half raised to his lips, "Go on."

Harry seemed to be filled with pride as he told the story, how Hermione had brewed the Polyjuice, how Snape had been right about Harry stealing from his stores ("But not in fourth year, that wasn't me!"), and how he and Ron had had to brave the mission alone while Hermione waited in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom as a cat.

Snape didn't speak for a few moments after the story was told. At long last, however, he set down his empty glass and reached for the bottle, pouring some in Harry's spare glass, "Ms. Granger was able to brew the Polyjuice potion at _twelve_ years old?" The in-credulousness was entirely evident in his voice, and Harry found pride in that.

"Told you she was the brightest in our year," he quipped smugly, abandoning his pasta for the wine. Admittedly, he had eaten quite a bit and felt full to bursting. He didn't think Severus would press him on the last few forkfuls, for which Harry was infinitely grateful, "But then...she, you know..." Harry trailed off, remember the guilt that had corrupted him when he and Ron visited Hermione in the hospital room, "She had figured it out, you know. We found a note clutched in her hand-she'd been walking the corners with a mirror to protect herself," Harry shook his head and sipped thickly at his wine, "And then Ron and I, when we went to find the Professors, we heard about Ginny, and I remembered about Moaning Myrtle, who gave us the final clue," Harry sighed, remembering how horrible that had been. How he had felt responsible for Ginny, for everything that had happened.

He stood from his chair to clear their plates, relieved when Snape didn't say anything. He washed them in the sink, soap, and warm water before placing them in the drying rack (in what he hoped was an organized manner), "I still can't fathom how you thought you could face a fully grown basilisk-" Snape started incredulously, turning in his chair to watch Harry as he continued on the other dishes.

"Ron and I caught Lockhart making a run for it...and we threatened him. Made him come with us. Lockhart stole his wand, which had been long broken by the Whomping Willow, if you remember, and ended up obliviating himself, intending to use us for another story," Harry nearly snorted at the ridiculousness of it all as he scrubbed vigorously at the pot Severus had used for sauce.

Snape filled Harry's glass, seemingly resolute to forget his intolerance towards Harry's drinking. He hadn't forgotten, but it seemed Harry was more willing to share when he had a few sips in him. Snape wasn't looking for intimate secrets, just all the things Dumbledore had left out, either due to lack of knowledge or lack of willingness to share, "What happened next?"

"Don't you know?" Harry questioned curiously, drying his hands on the wash cloth as he finished the last of the dishes and re-joined Snape at the table, bending his legs at the knees to curls to his chest. When Snape shook his head, Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't question it further, "Lockhart accidentally collapsed the chamber. Ron and him were stuck on one side, while I was on the other. Ron was to clear rocks while I went on to get Ginny-"

"You willingly entered the Chamber of Secrets on your own, to face the basilisk-" Snape started, incredulously. He had known that Harry had had to fight the basilisk, but the details had never been explained to him, nor did he think they had been fully explained to Dumbledore. As far as they had been concerned, Lockhart had been on the receiving end of Tom Riddle's fury, losing his mind in the process. Dumbledore had focused more on what the Diary had meant, and the magic that had allowed Riddle to come back.

"I didn't have a choice-"

"You always have a choice-" Snape started.

Harry was quick to cut him off with a laugh, "If I remember correctly, it is not our choices that matter," he quipped with a pointed look and a sip of his wine, "I had to save Ginny. There was nothing else to it. I was the one who could get into the chamber, it felt like it had to be. And there was no time to waste," Harry added scrupulously, sure that Snape would have another comment for that.

Snape, however, stayed silent, content to let Harry continue on.

"Tom Riddle had drained the life out of Ginny and was free of the diary. He challenged me, in a way, and set the basilisk on me...but Fawkes showed up and dropped the sorting hat before my feet. Fawkes blinded the basilisk next so it couldn't kill me with a look," Harry ran a hand through his hair, realizing then how long it had been since he'd truly thought about the Chamber. He shook his head, "Dumbledore told me that help would always appear at Hogwarts for those that need it, that ask for it. That's when the sword of Gryffindor appeared."

"And you slew the basilisk."

"Not easily, mind you. He managed to leave an entire fang in my arm," and Harry pulled back his sleeve to show the scar, forgetting that he had a listless amount of scars from...his own doing. Immediately, he regretted the action, but Snape paid no mind to his self-injury and instead ran his thumb gently over the basilisk scar, a large, unforgiving circle, whiter than the rest of Harry's skin.

"You were twelve," he couldn't seem to get past this, "Reckless and impulsive, far too brave for your own good-" Snape grumbled, but there was another look in his eyes that Harry couldn't place as the other looked up at him.

"I don't really plan these things, I just...did what I had to," Harry admitted gently, retracting his arm once Severus released it.

"How did you make it out alive after having been bit by a basilisk?"

"Fawkes. Phoenix tears-"

"Have healing properties," Snape finished almost proud of Harry in that moment.

"I told you, I always have help. It's not just...my seeking fame and glory. I'd be dead if it weren't for everyone," Harry added, miffed by Snape's comments, in the past years, that he was a fame-hog.

"I have already said that I regret my cruel candor," Snape added stiffly, sipping his wine with a measured look over the rim at Harry, who smiled, glad to be reassured of it again.

"I know, I just like to make sure I didn't imagine anything," Harry admitted sheepishly and drained the last dregs of his wine, proffering it up for Snape to pour him more. This was nice. Something he could get used to. He didn't feel like a child, he felt like a man grown. Appreciated for all the insane hardship he'd faced these past few years simply because Voldemort had picked him.

"Will you show me one day?" And both Snape and Harry realized that this was the first time Snape had ever asked something of him in earnest.

Harry blinked slowly for a moment before he shrugged, "Yeah, sure...whenever you have time," he was struggling to adjust to the sudden normalcy with which he and Severus could speak to one another. It felt easy, he didn't have to fight the urge to call him Professor, in all honesty, Harry addressed him however it came out in those moments, and Snape seemed to be following the same pattern. They didn't have to change everything. Besides, Professor Snape seemed like a kinky moniker for the man sitting across from him.

Harry watched casually as Snape left his glass behind on the table while he searched for another bottle of red wine. Harry was greatly disarmed by Snape's casualty, his ability to sip on wine and let his guard down so easily, despite his position, "How do you do it?" Harry asked incredulously as Snape flicked his wand and set the bottle to uncork and pour itself.

"I have a barrage of potions that will make me right of mind, merlin forbid," Snape said, so plainly that Harry had to stifle a laugh, knowing that he was serious. He should have guessed as much, at least, "Might be you'll have to show me this week. As Headmaster Dumbledore will be away, Professor McGonagall and I are in charge of watching the students until he returns," Snape swirled the red wine around his glass, letting it breathe before he tapped the edge of Harry's with a satisfying clink, "Don't gulp this one, it's meant to be savored," Snape advised pointedly, as Harry looked about to take a large swig.

He amended himself and raised an eyebrow, "Where's Dumbledore going?"

"As you'll have it, he has plans with an old friend," Snape said easily, setting Harry choking, coughing, and spurting his next sip of wine.

"He has friends?" Harry didn't know why this seemed so incredulous to him..he just figured Dumbledore was so wrapped up in being the greatest wizard of all time, the only man Voldemort had ever feared...that he wouldn't have time to have friends. Snape smirked over the rim of his glass and shook his head.

"Very few true friends, a multitude of acquaintances. But yes, he has holiday plans with a very old friend. And dare I say it, I'm pleased to have the castle almost entirely to ourselves," Snape's last sentence was said in a hush, leaving Harry to believe he was shy about admitting it aloud.

"I am too," he added, just as quietly.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy has chosen to remain in the castle as well. We must be infinitely more careful. I suppose you will want to see the Weasley brood and the werewo-Professor Lupin, as well for Christmas?" Snape questioned, the wine clearly making him more apt for insults.

Harry nodded, "It wouldn't be Christmas without one of Molly's sweaters. Could you..." Harry trailed off and sipped his wine for courage, admiring the way it seemed to go straight to his head, "...could you come too?" Harry wondered, almost embarrassed to ask what he was sure was a silly question.

"Mayhaps for a little while. Though, I don't suppose the Dragon tamer would appreciate that much. He seemed quite taken with you," Snape pointed out, referring to, of course, Charlie Weasley. Harry absently touched the dragon tooth hanging around his neck and felt his cheeks flush. It's the wine, he assured himself.

With a shake of his head, Harry denied Snape the pleasure of embarrassing him, "He's Ron's brother, he just...wants to make sure I'm alright."

"Looked like a bit more than that," Snape gruffed.

"Are you jealous?" Harry blurted suddenly, a small smirk touching his lips at the sudden realization that Snape was, in fact, jealous of Charlie Weasley, "I quite like this," he admitted teasingly around a sip of wine.

Snape rolled his eyes, "I am trying to be hopeful that your immaturity won't cause you to toy with me, Potter. I assure you, I am not a man to be played with," something was low, dark, and rumbling in Snape's words, and Harry felt entirely disarmed. His cock twitched pleasantly in his trousers and he tried not to let Snape in on the fire burning in the pit of his stomach, the warmth in his chest, and the confidence in his head.

"Can I borrow pajamas?" Harry blurted, tactless in throwing Snape off of his trail. He didn't wait for an answer and instead grabbed the bottle of wine and carried his glass along with him to the bedroom, where he let both of them wait on the bedside table, "I'd go searching myself but I'd hate to destroy your insane organization."

"How kind of you," Snape drawled and opened a draw to pull a large t-shirt, which he tossed in Harry's direction before pulling a pair of dark green plaid pyjama pants for himself, "I prefer to sleep shirtless, if you have a problem with it, you can take the couch," Snape muttered, eliciting a sharp laugh from Harry, who had already pulled the t-shirt on over his head, boxer briefs serving adequately as sleepwear. Snape turned then and Harry marveled in the strength of his chest. Lean, but quite muscled, littered with scars here and there. In turn, Snape surveyed him. Fragile small, but still full of that Harry Potter charm. Handsome, devilishly so, lean and rippled--if just a bit too lean, Snape would see to that soon enough.

 Harry stretched his arms languidly above his head, the t-shirt Snape had lent him rose just enough to expose a strip of skin. Snape's eyes flicked, out of his control as he took in the sight of the dark hair that trailed lightly along the middle of Harry's stomach and disappeared where his makeshift pajama shorts began. Unable to help himself, Snape's gaze lingered on the bulge, half-hard and incredibly tempting. It wasn't until he looked up at Harrythat he realized the boy was watching him, the left side of his mouth quirked scandalously, "Like what you see?" Merlin, Harry couldn't, for the life of him figure out where this newfound confidence was coming from. He supposed it had something to do with the wine. 

Snape did his best to quell the flush that rose in his cheeks and narrowed his eyes, "Shut up, Potter," Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, sipping from his wine glass, "If you get even a single drop on my duvet, I'll put you on the floor-"

"Or you could just magic the evidence away," Harry pointed out.

"It's the principle of it," Snape said with a sigh, though he sipped from his glass, a warmth spreading across his chest as Harry handed him his own glass so he could roll over and drape a leg across Severus's waist and prop himself up on an elbow. It took an obscene amount of courage for Harry to propose this venture, their sudden comfort with one another was so natural it was almost disconcerting. It felt normal-which was abnormal in itself. Harry paid it no mind and instead let himself take in the sight of Snape's bare chest, absently thinking 'my turn'. Severus didn't say anything as Harry examined him, though the intensity of Harry's eyes almost made him want to cover himself, "Like what you see?" His voice dripped, mimicking Harry's earlier sentiment.

"I do," Harry said with a curt nod and finished his glass, "I think I like red wine," he added passing his empty glass to Severus and shaking his head when he  quilted an eyebrow, silently asking if Harry wanted another, "Are most of these scars from the war or your father?" He asked quietly, tracing a scar below Snape's pec with the tip of his finger. He reveled in the way Severus shuddered, Harry's hands cool and delicate, raising goose pimples along Snape's skin.

"An answer for a question, then?" Severus suggested, looking down at Harry who's face fell as he mulled over the proposition and finally nodded, "A mixture of both. The newer ones are from the war, obviously. Some Order members, most of them are from the Dark Lord. As you've seen, he's a very punishing leader," Harry lowered his eyes and found another scar and older one this time.

"How'd he give you this one?"

"If you remember, it's my turn," Snape ran his fingers through Harry's hair warmly, as if it might ease his nerves, "When did he start beating you?"

Harry pursed his lips and stopped his artful skin designs, deep in thought, "The beatings didn't start till I was probably 6 or 7, I think. The accidental magic really set him off. Before then, they'd just starve me or lock me in my cupboard for a day or two."

Snape growled and tightened his hold around Harry, "I don't understand how anyone could possibly think that-"

"It's alright, they made them give me a room second year and didn't replace the bars after Fred, George, and Ron tore them off and broken me out," Harry laughed fondly and shook his head, "The next summer was atrocious, but it's my turn," Harry mulled over his next question thoughtfully, "Have you been in relationship with other men before?"

"Relationship? No. Relations, yes. I'm not the relationship type, I don't typically let people get close enough for that."

"And me?"

"It's not quite your turn but, yes, you I have let surprisingly close," Snape admitted, "Will you take off your shirt for me? I want to see you."

Harry's face went slightly pink, he supposed it counted as a question but something in him though that somehow Snape was breaking a rule...not that he minded.

Harry sat up then and pulled the shirt over his head, leaving it crumpled at the foot of Snape's bed causing the man to scowl. Harry watched, amused as Snape sat up to fold the t-shirt very neatly before replacing it, "Order is important," he added after catching Harry's smirk.

"Is there anyone in the world that you trust?" Harry wondered, his arms crossed in front of him, feeling very exposed, vulnerable, and ashamed of his scars. The self-inflicted ones, mostly.

Snape pursed his lips, "Dumbledore. Before that, there was only one other."

"Who-"

"Another time," something in Snape's tone stopped Harry from pressing for more information, "When was the last time you cut yourself?" The question caught Harry off guard and he tightened his arms around himself protectively, "I don't remember," he lied, but inwardly thought: yesterday.

"So it was a while ago, then, let me see your arms," Snape insisted, a smug look on his face, knowing he was going to catch Harry in a lie. 

"Another time?" Harry tried naively, sighing when Snape raised a cold eyebrow and set down his wine. Tentatively he reached for Harry's wrists, ensuring the boy would allow him to proceed. Harry tensed but finally allowed Snape to hold out his arms, wrists up. Harry was beet red, so ashamed of himself that he slightly tugged, trying to get away, only Snape resisted him.

"This is from yesterday," Snape pointed out, his eyes burning with betrayal as he waited for Harry to acknowledge him, "Honesty is going to be vital if we're going to make this...work," Severus said sternly. He raked his fingertips gently against the raised marks that had healed over, "When did you start doing this?"

Harry paled, fearful that his answer might push Snape away, that he might think Harry a weak, problematic little boy. It didn't take long for Severus to realize when, and he paled, too, "After I rejected you?"

Harry pulled his arms away, yanking hard when Severus refused to release him, "It wasn't just-it was everything, it all built up and I just had to let it out."

"So then you talk to someone, Harry!" Snape was frustrated and reached for his wine to calm his rage. He was mad that Harry would go so far to self-destruct and punish himself, "From now on, you will come to me. I'll check your arms every night, that's final. You will eat three meals a day-"

"You're not my father-"

"Thank heavens for that," Snape drawled bitterly. Harry scoffed and reached for his shirt, only Severus stopped him with his free hand, "I care about you. I will not let you self-destruct in front of my eyes. If you expect me to stand by and leave you to your own devices, you don't know me at all."

Severus released him then and sat back, waiting to see what Harry would do next. Harry hesitated, eyes on the shirt that he could use to cover himself, he didn't want Snape to be angry at him. And he didn't want to be angry at Snape either. Boldly, he turned back around and straddled Snape's hips and stole his glass of wine. He sipped and held it out of Snape's reach, "I'll do as you ask as long as you promise not to push me away again. I don't care about the rules or what people will think, I don't care if you think I'm too young, I've handled more than most do in a lifetime. I can make my own choices. I want this, I want you."

Harry finished passionately and waited with baited breath for Snape to respond, "As you wish, Potter," Snape teased and stole his glass draining the last of it before he wrapped a strong arm around Harry's waist and yanked him against his chest playfully. Their lips crashed together, a tangled wave of lust and something more concrete between them. Harry's lips tingled desperately when Snape pulled away to catch his breath, hands raking desperately through Harry's hair. Severus tilted Harry's had back and pressed his lips against the column of Harry's neck, drawing from Harry a moan that made Snape's cock twitch and liven against Harry's own, already rock hard and pressing into Snape with eager passion.

"Insatiable-" Snape murmured against Harry's neck, leaving a tiny mark behind. Mine, Severus found himself thinking before he couldn't think much at all because Harry was dragging his nails over his chest and sharply catching them again Snape's nipple, which Harry knew Snape liked. A rumble built in Snape's chest and carried up his throat before it escaped as a desperate groan and he cupped Harry's supple arse in his hands in order to pull him down with vigor, jerking their hips together, causing both of them to moan in unison.

Harry managed to wriggle free and slink lower over Snape's body. He trailed bruising kisses against Snape's chest and cheekily caught Snape's erect nipple with his teeth, gliding his tongue sharply over the bud.

"Fuck, Harry-" Snape groaned, pulling Harry's hair and thrusting their hips together without restraint. Harry didn't stop there, though, and as his cool fingertips made their way under the waistband of Snape's plaid pajama bottoms, Snape reached quickly to stop him, "Are you sure?"

Harry looked up curiously and grinned so sharply, his eyes a pool of fire and lust, that Snape thought he could cum right then and there, "I want to," Harry insisted, already lowering Snape's bottoms and exposing his cock. It thwacked against Snape's stomach and lay erect before Harry. He didn't take much time to admire it, though it was a mighty piece of meat. Long and thick, hard and throbbing with and an artful trail of veins. Snape was groomed well, Harry realized and his balls were tight in the palm of Harry's massaging hand. The gesture alone had Snape writhing and twisting his hands against the duvet. Harry pressed his lips against Snape's abdomen, trailing kisses lower and lower until he reached the base of his cock, where he slowly dragged his tongue along the length of Snape's member. Severus raised his hips and Harry licked the precum leaking from the tip before he lowered his lips tightly around him and engulfed his entire length.

Snape's cums into Harry's mouth and Harry welcomes it, despite Severus trying to pull him away, out of respect, he supposes, but Harry enjoys satisfying him until the very last drop. Suddenly exhausted, Harry crawls up Snape's chest and drops against him. Spent himself, Severus doesn't mind at all and presses a tired kiss to Harry's lips.

They lay like that for a while, Harry listening to the steady thrum of Snape's heart, rejecting Snape's attempts to please him in return. Harry realizes that, in this moment, he'd much rather stay exactly like this where the rest of the world falls away.


	32. In Which Harry Bends the Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See previous chapter notes and give this struggling writer some feedback!
> 
> How do you guys feel about Harry and Snape's relationship developing? What are your thoughts about Charlie Weasley's infatuation? Shit is gonna get real and I want to make sure I'm not going too above and beyond with the angst...I mean, is that really even possible?
> 
> What do you guys want to see more of?
> 
> Usual disclaimers and trigger warning apply.

As the sun trickled through the crack in Snape's curtains, casting a delightful, serene glow about the room, Harry roused. Somewhere in the night, Snape must've pulled the covers over them, as Harry was curled into the smallest spoon you could imagine, Snape's arm draped over him protectively, keeping him close. Harry blushed and smiled furiously at the feeling, especially considering that Snape had not chosen to put his trousers on again afterwards. As Harry stirred, trying to extract himself from the bed, so did Severus until, finally, he woke.

"Where do you think you're going?" Snape muttered sleepily, pulling Harry even closer and pressing his lips against the back of his neck, pulling a small chuckle from Harry's lips, "It's Sunday, and far too early to leave bed."

"Oh? Is that a rule?" Harry pressed curiously, rolling over to face Snape, ignoring both of their morning breath.

"It's  _principle_ ," Snape insisted sleepily, "We don't have to be back at Hogwarts until lunch," he added gently, his eyes drifting closed for a few seconds before he snapped them open again, fighting sleep.

"Hush, you sleep. I just have to go to the bathroom," Harry insisted and, begrudgingly, Severus loosened his hold on Harry, allowing him to get out of bed. He did, in fact, have to go to the bathroom, where he used his finger to brush his teeth and splashed water on his face. Realizing that last night might've been the best night of sleep that he'd gotten in a long time, Harry grinned stupidly at himself in the mirror. Ignoring its kinky comment about being  _quite pleased this morning_ , Harry dried his face on one of Snape's towels and smartly deposited it in the hamper, sure that Severus's OCD extended to cleanliness, as well.

When he stepped out into the bedroom again, Harry found himself smiling stupidly again, realizing that Snape had fallen back asleep and rolled over in bed, his arm tucked under his pillow. Sneakily, Harry exited the bedroom and found the kitchen, where he was determined to cook them both a full English breakfast to prove to Snape that he could be fairly domestic when he wanted to be.

Unfortunately, Snape did not have beans, nor black and white pudding. So, Harry settled instead on eggs, rashers, and potatoes. He grated the potatoes first, creating a delightful pile of hashbrowns and then sought out Snape's pans. It took a few moments, but once he finally managed he turned to the fridge for eggs, butter, and rashers. He was used to cooking for the Dursley's, it was familiar and easy for him to fall in the routine, made especially delightful because he was cooking for someone he liked because he wanted to, not because it was the difference between eating or not eating.

He left the hashbrowns in the pan to cook and crisp, used another pan for the bacon and started at scrambling the eggs, a dash of milk to make them fluffy. Realizing that chives would be an excellent addition to their eggs, Harry opened the side door and entered the garden, remembering exactly where they were, as he had just weeded around them only mere hours ago. 

He had pulled a few chives from the garden, just enough for flavor, when he caught sight of his hissing friend again, _"Chester!"_ He greeted cheerfully and knelt to get a better look at the snake.

" _Hello again to you,"_ Chester hissed and slithered closer.

 _"I'm in the middle of cooking breakfast, would you like to come in? I won't tell if you won't,"_ Harry grinned and held out his hand.

Chester's tongue flicked appreciatively and he slithered into Harry's palm and wrapped himself around his wrist, _"Smells good."_

 _"Can you eat rashers-er, thin slices of bacon?"_ Harry inquired curiously setting the chives aside in order to flip the hashbrowns and bacon so the other side could crisp.

" _Only if it's quite undercooked,"_ hissed Chester appreciatively, and Harry threw another slice on, vowing to keep an eye on it in order to please the garter snake.

Harry set to cutting the chives extremely thin and dropped them into the eggs, which he poured next into a third pan. Removing the snake's piece of bacon, he set both on the floor, with a quick warning to hurry, before Severus woke and saw the catastrophe before him. Harry returned to the fridge in search of juice. Delighted to find Mango, he pulled the carton and returned to the stove. Hashbrowns were perfectly browned, the bacon was nearly done, and he busied the eggs, turning them until they were only just the slightest bit runny. The best way, in his opinion. He was just plating their breakfast, when Snape entered the kitchen, pyjama pants on again. He stopped at the sight before him, the full breakfast, the dirty pans, the snake slithering it's way around Harry's ankle as if to hide.

His eyes lingered on the snake, and Harry edged his way back towards the door, as if he could let the snake slither away and save them both, but Snape merely sighed and shook his head, "He stays on your ankle while we eat," Snape muttered, turning to survey the large plate of breakfast before him, "I can't believe you made all this, is the take away van driving off right now?" Snape taunted, looking towards the window, causing Harry to roll his eyes. 

"I'm a decent cook, mind you."

"That is to be determined," Snape added, lifting his plate and making his way to the table. Harry poured Snape a glass of mango juice, found silverware and placed both in front of Severus, standing by and watching eagerly for his approval, "I won't eat with you watching me."

"You always watch me," Harry pointed out argumentatively.

Snape sighed then and took his first bite of egg, nodding appreciatively and smirking up at Harry, "More than satisfactory," he insisted before nodding towards Harry's own helping, "Now sit and eat yourself."

Harry swallowed thickly and turned away to gather his own plate, silverware, and mango juice. He'd plated more food for Severus, hoping he could get away with his meager portions. As he turned his eggs over casually, Snape glared at him, "What?" Harry blurted, unable to help himself as he speared a minor forkful of egg. They were good, god they were fucking good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd chewed and swallowed scrambled eggs-breakfast was his favorite meal, but he'd reduced himself to a few bites of porridge or wheat toast at Hogwarts.

"I will give you time to build an appetite, but you won't get on over on me, Potter. I'm watching you now, after all," Snape insisted before he took a large mouthful of hashbrowns, chewed, and swallowed, "These are excellent."

Harry felt warmed by the approval and pulled the snake free leg up to his chest. He abandoned his fork and picked his crispiest rasher, hoping to sneak the more undercooked ones to Chester who hissed eagerly under the table. After taking a crunchy bite, he looked up at Severus again, "What's the plan then, for today?" Harry wondered idly, biting off another piece of bacon.

"Well, after we finish eating, I imagine we'll get ready and head back to Hogwarts. Perhaps a trip to Hogsmeade, if you'd like. I imagine you'll need food for the creature," Snape muttered the last bit, brightening Harry greatly.

"Is it alright if I keep him?" He wondered incredulously.

"He won't be here very often, so, that's up to you," Snape insisted with a sigh and turned his attention back to his meal. Harry used the opportunity to grab another piece of only slightly undercooked meat and ducked below the table to pass it to the snake.

 _"Would you like to come with me, then? I'll let you go whenever you want to return,"_ Harry insisted eagerly.

 _"Chester would enjoy that,"_ the snake responded and stomached the entire piece of bacon.

Snape was watching him curiously when he returned to the table, and Harry felt as if he'd been caught, only Snape shook his head, "You are oblivious to the power you possess, Potter," he quipped, bringing relief deep into Harry's chest and encouraging him to take another bite of eggs, followed by his potatoes.

"Gods, I didn't know I was that good a chef," Harry mumbled teasingly. His eyes met Snape's over their plates and both of them were reduced to laughter, gentle and kind.

Harry couldn't finish his plate, but Severus had seen that he'd made an effort and hadn't pushed him any further. Harry dropped Chester off in the garden, with promises to get him before they left, and started back for the bedroom, where he found Severus stripping down and heading to the bathroom, nightclothes folded neatly and placed in the hamper, "Care to join me?" Snape asked brashly, causing Harry to flush at his receding back, though he followed, no less. He also folded his briefs neatly and deposited them in the hamper, receiving a barely-there smile from Snape, "How hot do you like the water?" Snape asked him, hand testing the stream that was flowing from the shower head.

"Scalding," Harry admitted, and Snape nodded, turning the tap just a bit hotter before he stepped in, embracing the dull burn of over his back.

Harry hesitated but stepped in after him, very aware that his belly had a pouch that he was self-conscious enough to cover himself with his arms, "Stop that. You're as thin as you were before breakfast. You'll digest," Snape insisted and held his hand for Harry to take as he helped him into the shower. Severus stepped back so Harry could be warmed by the steady stream and reached for soap, "Let me?" Harry watched Snape curiously but nodded and closed his eyes as Severus pulled the bar of soap over him, hands following behind to create clean suds, "Turn around," Harry obliged, enjoying Snape's touch. He repeated the routine over Harry's back and, Harry, ready to turn around again, was surprised to feel the bar of soap sliding over his arse, smoothly, slowly, and sensually. 

Without thinking, he reached out to brace himself against the shower wall, "Is this okay?" Snape asked quietly, kneading each cheek tenderly as Harry nodded, unable to speak, "And this?" Harry let out a gasp as Snape's hand wrapped around his cock from behind, his arousal obvious and growing. Harry whimpered and nodded again as Snape discarded the soap and continued to pump Harry's cock. 

He could feel Snape's own excitement, hard and tempting against his back. Harry turned himself around then and pulled Snape's lips to his with his hand at the back of Snape's head, water streamed over them, but neither of them noticed. Snape reached again for Harry's cock and pumped, fingers nimble and grip just tight enough-Harry moaned into Snape's ear, as the other nibbled along his neck and bent to find spot where his shoulder curved. 

Fumbling, Harry found Snape's own cock and pulled, revelling in the way Snape's seemed to stumble against him, pressing his back against the shower wall. They rutted helplessly into one another's hands, lips crashing together or leaving bite behind on neck, chest, and jaw-

"Sever-us-I'm-" Harry panted desperately, his hips jerking forward as his climax started to overcome him.

"Yes, Harry-cum for me," Snape muttered, his words forced steady as he found himself rising quickly to climax as well. Harry came against his hip and Snape found that he had began to cum himself as Harry finished. Both of them were panting, braced against one another for support as their bodies racked with the final waves of pleasure, feeding off of one another's moans. They stayed like that, pressed against one another, water streaming between small openings. Harry felt as if he could fall asleep again. Full and content and-god, he was happy.

They separated at long last, finishing their shower quickly, as the part they had both been anticipating was over. Wrapped in towels and dried, Harry and Severus entered the bedroom, "Do we have to go back?" Harry wondered then, almost sadly, sure that everything would change once they returned to the real world.

"We don't have a choice," Snape admitted at long last and began to dress himself while Harry perched on the edge of the bed, dejected, "Ah, you need clothes," Severus realized then and pursed his lips before turning to his own closet, "You can wear the trousers, I'll cast a cleaning spell..." Snape mused and reached into his closet, coming back with a beige knit sweater, three buttons opening down from the collar, a loop to close them if desired, "This is quite small on me, I could shrink it for you, if needed," Snape added, handing it to Harry. The other pulled it over his head, followed by his trousers, which Snape handed to him kindly.

"Well?" Harry wondered curiously, using the towel to dry his hair.

Snape pursed his lips and said nothing. With a flick of his wand, Harry felt the sweater drop a size or two, but still lose enough that his tiny frame had some cushion to it, "Exquisite. And these are good colors," Snape added thoughtfully before he turned to dress in his robes, as he had to keep appearances at school.

"On me?"

"Well, yes. But, they're good colors. Black goes with everything. Beige is hard to appreciate-" Snape appeared as if he could go on but stopped himself and flicked his wand to send both towels to the bathroom hamper, where Harry was beginning to develop a pattern, "Forgive me...balance and organization-"

"Don't apologize. It's quite interesting," Harry admitted as he put his glasses back on and started back out to the kitchen so he could retrieve Chester from the garden and slip him into his pocket. The snake appreciated the warmth.

"Did you want to go to Hogsmeade, Harry?" Snape wondered curiously, but Harry shook his head.

"I think I should pack for the Weasley's, otherwise I'll never get to it," Harry admitted, "I believe I'll be quite distracted the next few days," the underlying tone to his voice set Snape smirking and he led Harry to the fireplace. They both threw their powder in the flames and asked to be taken to Dumbledore's office, password, _Cockroach Clusters._

Harry was relieved that Dumbledore was sharing his holiday with an old friend, that way he didn't have to blush furiously and avoid his gaze in order to hide their secret...namely his immense attraction towards Severus Snape. In more ways than one. Snape and Harry took the stairs together but paused before they stepped past the statue blocking the way.

"I will see you soon," Snape insisted, stepping closer to Harry until his back was pressed pleasurably against the hard stone wall.

"I hope so," Harry teased, letting Snape consume him with a bruising kiss, the other's hand cradling the side of Harry's face, fingers slipping just under his jaw to graze his neck. Harry pressed back, just as fiercely, heart racing. Just before Snape pulled away, Harry dropped his hand between them and squeezed Snape's half hard cock through his robes with a cheeky laugh before he spun away, feeling entirely too cocky for his own good. Snape watched him go, a small smile on his face.

 _Insatiable._ He wasn't sure if he was talking about Potter or himself anymore.

He wandered off in the other direction to the Staff lounge, where he was sure he would find the other professors who had obligations so stay for the holidays, his mind abuzz with all thoughts of Harry Potter.

 

Harry spent the afternoon packing his essentials into a more management bag. There was no need for him to lug his trunk back and forth when he only planned on spending a few days at the Weasley's. Once he'd finished, Harry collapsed on his four-poster, entertaining thoughts of Severus and wondering if he could sneak into his room later tonight by way of the invisibility cloak.

He was pulled from his thoughts by an incessant tapping at the window. He turned to see a large barn owl.

Oh, Charlie.

Harry had forgotten. He let the owl in and stroked him gently, receiving an appreciative hoot. He affectionately nibbled his finger as he removed the scroll from her leg and unraveled it.

_You never wrote me-is everything alright?_

_Fondly,_

_Your favorite dragon tamer_.

Harry chuckled and flipped the parchment over so he could scribble back a quick reply and ease the Weasley's worries:

_I'm sorry, things were a bit hectic. I ended up being disinvited to the service, bit of a mess really but, what can I do, right? Will I be seeing you at Christmas?_

_Also fond,_

_Your favorite snake whisperer._

They had taken to this banter the past few weeks, exchanging letters here and there when Harry stopped isolating himself. In fact, now that he thought about it, Charlie had been devoted to their letters all term with stories of dragons and curious questions about the things Harry had been up to. He'd even sent a few moving photos of himself with dragons, avoiding dragon fire and third degree burns. Harry had become very comfortable speaking to Charlie and the letters often pulled him out of the dark corners of his mind. He wasn't sure how he'd missed the more affectionate tones in Charlie's letters, but now he was beginning to think he'd got himself into a bit of a mess.

Harry sighed and dropped onto his four poster bed. It wasn't long before his eyes were drifting closed and Chester had slithered his way up to Harry's pillow, careful not to be rolled over on.

There was something trying to dig into his side, and Harry swatted his hand at it, only to have it respond in kind, "Dobby is sorry to be waking Mr. Harry Potter, sir, but Mr. Snape has sent Dobby to fetch Mr. Potter for lunch, he's is saying that Mr. Harry potter is being late on purpose," Harry met Dobby's round yellow-green orbs for eyes and blinked the last of his sleep away, before a muttered fuck left his lips and he ran a hand over his face, "Oh, Harry Potter is much too tired, Dobby could be telling Mr. Snape that Mr. Harry is ill?"

Harry grinned thoughtfully at Dobby then, amazed that the elf has always, unfailingly had his back after all this time, "Thanks, Dobby, I appreciate it, but I don't want either of us facing the weather of Sev-Professor Snape."

"Harry Potter is too kind, as always!" Dobby cheered and Harry chuckled at the lumpy socks he's wearing, one of the earlier pair that Hermione had taken to knitting all those years ago. 

When Dobby had left him, Harry pushed himself up, let Chester settle in around his wrist and tried to flatten his hair as best he could. Being that it was holiday break, he didn't bother with his robes and finally made his way to the Great Hall where, true to Dumbledore fashion, only one table sat in the middle, being that so few of them were present. Harry surveyed the table quickly and undetected, glad to see his stealth was still about him.

By the time he sat down, he knew every person at the table who had remained behind, Malfoy being one of them. Strangely enough, Malfoy refused to make eye contact with him and picked a spot furthest from the rest of them, including Snape who regarded him coldly, though Harry saw a hint of concern. Or confusion, maybe. 

Harry served himself a half of a sandwich, his stomach suddenly wrought and twisting with nerves, glad to see Snape suddenly distracted by Professor's Slughorn and McGonagall, deep in hushed conversation. 

He took a small bit of his sandwich and looked up in time to meet the deep brown eyes of-what was her name again, Fifth year Ravenclaw...Mary Entwhistle. He smiled meekly.

"That can't be all you're eating," She insisted, meaning to be friendly and encouraging, but Harry's face fell sharply as the rest of the table turned to look at him, most of all Severus, "The cheese pastries are really quite good," she suggested and, to shut her up, he plucked one off of the plate and smiled bitterly. He chanced a glance up the table and felt nauseous at Snape's raised eyebrow and purses lips. It was almost as if he was saying 'We had an agreement.'

Harry pressed his sandwich to his lips and took another nibble, unsure why he felt so uneasy. Harry reached for a sausage and slipped it under the table for Chester who was curled around his calf. 

" _Going to make me fat_ ," Chester hissed delightfully and Harry grinned. He didn't want to answer in front of everyone in case they thought he was losing his mind. 

It wasn't until he saw the clumsy barn owl flying towards him that he realized where his anxiety was coming from. The bird landed in the rest of the sandwich platter and held out his leg for Harry and took the rest of his sandwich right out of his hand. He was anxious because he felt unsettled over Charlie, nervous about what Snape might think or how he would feel about the flirtatious banter and the fact that Charlie had said he was going to kiss him.

Harry tucked the note into his pocket, red creeping up his neck. He was thrilled that he'd had his sandwich stolen and, as the first student rose to leave, Harry did too, ignoring Snape's eyes burning holes into his back. 

Expecting that Severus would be wanting to see him, Harry quickly made his way to the dungeons and let himself into Snape's office and then chambers. He perched on Snape's bed and waited, Chester regarding him curiously. Harry fished Charlie's letter out of his pocket and unfurled it.

Aye, Christmas at the Burrow is all I've been looking forward to for a while now. Romania has gotten a bit lonely. 

Looking forward to seeing you, Harry, perhaps under a mistletoe?

Only joking, sort of.

Warmly,

Charlie.

He groaned and shoved the note back in his pocket just as the door opened and Snape stood before him, closing the door sharply. He didn't say anything for a while and busied himself by taking off his robes, leaving him in slacks and a button down. The silence was so thick and heavy that Harry found himself opening his mouth to speak, "I ate, Severus, I don't-"

Snape flicked his wand and suddenly, Harry found that he'd been silenced. He sighed and waited. Snape kept his back to him and Harry was devasted to realize that the other was taut, tense, and terribly enraged.

"I told you the rules, Potter," Snape said lowly and turned to Harry then, his face a stone wall, "All I require is that you at least try to take care of yourself. Three bites of a sandwich? Three?" Snape scoffed and grilled Harry before he lifted the silencing charm.

Harry took a shaky breath to steady himself, "I'm trying, Severus. I can't change everything overnight. It's not an excuse," he insisted in earnest before he pushed himself to his feet and slowly closed the gap between him, "I'm sorry, but you have to give me time," Harry pleaded and reached for Snape who swatted his hand away, but Harry persisted, stubborn and resilient until Snape gave in and let Harry pull him closer.

"You are insufferable, Potter," he murmured.

"And a petulant child, I know, I know," Harry rolled his eyes and smirked, breaking down Snape's most stubborn layer.

"I can't stand you-"

"That's a lie-"

"Of course it is," Snape murmured back and tilted Harry's chin just a little bit higher so he could press their lips together. Things began to escalate rather quickly, which was about the last thing both Snape and Harry had expected. Then again, Severus supposed he should have expected it, since he craved Harry Potter's touch every second of everyday since the moment the boy had so boldly grabbed him by the robes and initiated their first kiss. 

The same things he used to loathe Potter for and turned into more blemishes on the boy's personality had started to become things that inspired him, things he was fond of and couldn't imagine a Harry Potter without these intoxicating traits. 

Noticing that Severus was somewhere else, Harry bit down on Snape's bottom lip, a little smirk on his lips as Snape pulled back suddenly, eyes narrowed, "Pay attention to me," Harry teased mockingly, a surprised laugh bubbling from his lips as Severus backed him against the nearest wall, passion laced in the bite of stone against his back. His eyes were heavy, lit with a fierce passion and Snape's were darkened with lust before they closed as he buried his lips against the crook of Harry's neck and nibbled gently. Shivers racked up Harry's spine and he pressed his hips forward with a gasp as Snape responded by reaching around and cupping Harry's ass tightly, pressing their cocks hungrily together. The friction was desperately restriction and Harry whimpered with need, yanking at Snape's robes while their lips met furiously again, fitting together perfectly-

Harry's eyes shot open with a sudden burst of pain through his forehead and Snape was already pulling away, his mark apparently summoning him as well.

"Dare I say that killed the mood?" Harry could not, for the life of him, wrap his head around the fact that Snape had just made a joke, with sexual implications. It took Harry a moment but he snorted, his laughter distracting him from the pain he was trying to massage out of his forehead.

"Do you have to go?" Harry wondered quietly, sobering the moment.

Snape was struck by Harry's mature response in that he wasn't heightened and pleading for Snape to stay as he had in the past. He looked dejected, but that was normal under the circumstances.

"Unfortunately," Snape said gravely and pressed his lips to Harry's forehead, "Go, enjoy yourself."

"I was," Harry grumbled, though his face betrayed a teasing smile and he rushed his fingertips against Snape's hand, "Be careful, please?"

Snape raised an eyebrow but chose not to toss a scathing comment about how he'd been looking out for himself his entire life, but something about the sentiment warmed him as Harry turned for the door, "And Harry?"Harry turned curiously looking hopeful, "I know what Charlie Weasley's barn owl looks like."

Harry flushed and stammered, feeling caught, only Snape smirked, his suspicion confirmed. There was something strange going on between Potter and the Dragon lover, and he didn't think he liked the idea of another fantasizing about Harry cock, the supple pink of his lips, the way he moaned and would bite Snape's shoulder to try and tame his cries of pleasure.

Dirty old man, enough, he thought to himself and shook his head, realizing there was a tightness in his trousers again. He needed to focus and clear his head, something that was suddenly more difficult than it had ever been. He was utterly, entirely consumed by Harry Potter.

Putting the tip of his wand to his head, Snape removed a collection of memories and bottled them in a vial, not only to revisit for personal matters but to make them harder to find and easier to conceal entirely.

Snape left for Malfoy Manor immediately after, each step across the grounds beyond the apparation wards helped him fall further into character. This man was a good faithful servant, this man would kill Albus Dumbledore, this man had certainly not been with Harry in wonderfully intimate-

Get it together.

When he appeared at the Malfoy's gate and scowled at Lucius's dramatic peacocks, the man had always been a bit much but, alas, Snape found that he strangely didn't mind. Their relationship had started when Lucius took him under his wing his first year, noticing Snape's penchant for inventing spells and tweaking potions. Useful, Lucius had said he was.

He was doing his best to be useful now, aiming to steer The Dark Lord's punishing attitude away from the Malfoy's. They were not bad people. Had some warped notions bred by a life sheltered in Pureblood society, but they were stuck now in an impossible situation and were doing all they could to survive.

Severus entered the manor, glaring terrifyingly cruel as it fell on Pettigrew who whimpered delightfully to his satisfaction. A rat scraping the bottom of any barrel, Snape thought with detest as he entered the dining room where the rest of his...colleagues were sitting, the Dark Lord was running his fingertips over Nagini's gleaming scales.

"My Lord," Severus greeted and bowed before he took his seat and waited for him to begin.

 The Dark Lord begins to speak, but Severus is only half listening, his eyes are fixed on Lucius and Narcissa, both look ill, usually pristine and aristocratic, they now look worn and haggard.

Snape directed his attention back to the Dark Lord and listened more intently so as not to be called out for a lack of devotion. There is apparently a plan in place with the vampires now. If they agree to join their side of the battle, they will remain undisturbed in their covens, with all the muggle blood they could ever want. And with the werewolves being recruited by Fenrir, who's noticeable scent is absent. 

"I will be calling them over the next week or so to test their loyalty. I want to see how well they handle an assault on their own."

"Might we be of assistance, my Lord?" Snape inquired, his head bowed respectfully in hopes that he can find out where these attacks might take place so he can warn the Order.

"No, Severus, they need to prove themselves." 

Snape nodded, biting his tongue to keep from pushing any further. 

"Our youngest recruit has informed that his...little project is coming along nicely," The Dark Lord said next, "Severus, can you attest to that?"

"Yes, my Lord. Draco has been working diligently, his dedication to you is strong, I have no doubt," Severus insisted, purposely not looking towards the Malfoy's who both had grateful eyes trained on him.

The Dark Lord goes on, planning a death eater assault somewhere near the Swiss Alps on Christmas, which is beyond him, though he doesn't question it. The Dark Lord asks him what Harry's plans are for the holiday, "He is to remain at Hogwarts for protection until Christmas Eve where he will be moved to the Weasley's, my Lord," it hurt him to say this, but he knew the Dark Lord wouldn't be foolish enough to attack what would surely be a strongly warded and protected location.

At the mention of the Weasley's, there is a murmur and laughter amongst them all, no doubt thinking about the disgrace that the Weasley's blood-traitor status has made. 

 By the end of the meeting, Snape is itching to get back to Hogwarts, to Harry, but he sits stiller than ever and prepares himself for the Dark Lord to inquire more privately about Draco. The room clears and Severus remains behind waiting for the Dark Lord to address him.

"And the other task the boy has been charged with? Has he made any progress trying to kill Albus Dumbledore?"

Severus mulled this over for a second and nodded slowly, "He has made attempts and come quite close."

"Close is not good enough!" The Dark Lord snapped and Nagini hissed, sensing his anger. Somewhere in the back of Snape's mind, he wonders if Harry is massaging the pain out of his scar, worrying about him.

"I assure you, my Lord, if the boy fails I will carry out the-"

Voldemort hissed and flicked his wand, dropping Snape to the floor in excruciating pain, "I did not ask you to," his voice is cold and cruel, as unforgiving as the pain that lingers, and just when Snape thinks he may lift the curse, he drags it on. This is another night where he realizes how unstable and fragile the Dark Lord's ego is in regards to Harry Potter.

For the first time, he is proud, and that thought is able to carry him through the rest of his torture.


	33. In Which Harry Heals a Little Bit, Thanks to His Friends

Harry had, naturally, been waiting outside the castle, just before the apparation ward ended with his cloak pulled over him so he wouldn't be seen. He had been waiting for an hour, well...at least, he'd been waiting _outside_ for an hour. He'd been waiting for Severus to return since the moment he'd left. He blew hot air on his fingertips, ice cold and numb to the touch and tucked them back under his armpits. He felt sick, dinner had not happened, he'd stayed in Gryffindor tower by the fire, stroking Chester and attempting to distract his mind with conversation. Chester was witty, intelligent, and strangely wise-but he supposed that would be the only sort of snake to live in Snape's herb garden. It hadn't been until his scar started burning fiercely that he'd given up the ruse entirely, grabbed his cloak and made a break for it. He knew Snape might be annoyed to see him, breaking the rules once again, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to care. 

He fiddled with the vial of potion in his pocket, a calming draught. He remembered how helpful that had been after the Triwizard Tournament, Madam Pomfrey had plied him with them, easing the leftover shakes and shudders from the Cruciatus.

 As soon as the gates opened, Harry tore off the cloak and ran towards Snape's hunched form, "I've got it," Harry said quietly, his sudden presence hardly stunning--Severus had assumed this would happen, this or something like it. He watched Harry cast the charms, transfixed at the boy's sudden power, each charm was cast perfectly and, despite Snape's pain, he swelled with pride. 

Once he had finished casting all the appropriate protections over the gate, Harry turned back to Severus and handed him the potion which he drank gratefully, able to deduce what it was by its color and potency.

"You shouldn't be out here," Snape muttered, too weak to make his argument punishing as Harry pulled his arm over his own shoulders and started helping Snape back towards the castle.

"I've been waiting for you all night, I wasn't about to head back inside knowing that you were going to look like this," Harry insisted gently, pausing as Severus nearly lost his footing. They paused a moment, Snape stabilized, and then they continued back to the castle.

As they came to the door, Snape instructed Harry to get back under his cloak, when he protested Snape fixed him with a glare so sharp Harry didn't think twice about listening, "It would look very strange to Mr. Malfoy if he caught you escorting me back into the castle, knowing I'd been summoned, obviously," Snape added and, under his cloak, Harry rolled his eyes and shoved open the doors to the entrance hall. Once Snape had gotten inside, he shut them and followed closely, in case Severus gave out again. 

As soon as they were in Snape's chambers he flicked his wand and procured two scotch glasses, followed by a strong bottle of Firewhisky, fermented by the owner of the Cloak and Dagger, where Severus often stopped for a drink after being summoned. When he was in shape to, at least.

"Can I do anything?" Harry asked idly, his cloak already neatly folded and deposited on the chaise, preferring to avoid Severus's chastising.

"Pour me a drink," Snape gruffed, and lowered himself onto the bed.

Harry handed Severus a wealthy glass and helped himself to his own, he stood by the dresser for a moment, looking at Severus's reflection, "I don't know why, but I never thought Voldemort would use the Cruciatus on you, of all people."

Severus's eyes flicked up, locking on Harry's through the mirror, "The Dark Lord enjoys establishing his dominance. He wants to ensure I know my place is at his feet and not by his side."

This, Harry understood. Voldemort was cruel and punishing, an egotistical maniac. Embarrassing Severus and reducing him to the seizing, screaming shape Harry had seen in his brief glimpse was his way of asserting power.

"You should tell Voldemort to occlude better," Harry muttered, tearing his eyes away from Snape's sure his words would be heard and read into enough to deduce what Harry meant. He looked up in time to see Snape's face shift, and Harry wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or enraged. He turned around anyway, "It was just a glimpse of him...torturing you. Who knows, maybe one day he'll show me the secret to his mortality." 

Snape sighed and shook his head before gesturing Harry into bed, "That really shouldn't happen anymore," he added, a calmness to his voice the boy was relieved to hear. "I need you to promise me something."

Harry turned his head curiously to look at Snape, who wasn't looking at him, "I would have you make an Unbreakable Vow over it if I weren't so concerned about the apparent fact that you simply can't help yourself, a majority of the time."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Okay...get on with it-"

"If ever I am compromised. In battle, to the Dark Lord, injured, kidnapped, anything-" Snape leveled him with a deadly serious stare, "-you will not put yourself in harm's way for me. You will not ever play hero when it comes to me, do you understand?"

Harry sighed, "I understand but, as you said, I can't control myself, ninety-nine percent of the time on a daily basis. And then add you into the mix, who I lose control around all the time? Why did you even bother asking?" Harry grins and Snape can't help but snort and roll his eyes, finding only little amusement in Harry's words and they resumed a pleasant silence.

"I'll take you to the Weasley's tomorrow," Snape said after a long time had passed between them. He sounded almost regretful, and Harry realized that he was too.

"And then you'll stop by on Christmas?"

"I suppose," Severus sighed, feigning exasperation, "Since you are so needy."

Harry laughed largely and turned on his side, glass empty until he flicked his wand  for the bottle and topped them off again, "Before we go to the Burrow can I stop briefly in Hogsmeade?"

"Why?"

"It's a surprise, you'll find out on Christmas."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter, I don't need a gift."

"It's Christmas and _I want_ to give you one."

Snape sighed again, "Infernally exhausting," but there was a gentle smile on his lips as he said it and Harry smiled in response before he pulled himself closer to Severus and sat up straighter until he was able to lean over and press his lips to the corner of Sev's smirk. As he pulled away, Snape reached up and holds him in place with a demanding hand at the back of his head, "Properly now," Severus said quietly before he crushed their mouths together and used his tongue to make Harry moan enjoyably.

It didn't take much time at all for things to escalate. Harry could hardly remember when their clothes had come off, or how he had ended up straddling Snape's hips, their erections pressed together. Each time they moved against one another, a sharp throb of pleasure racked through both of them. It caused nails to bite into skin, teeth to find purchase against shoulder blades, and lips bruised or parted with breathy moans.

"God, I want you so fucking bad-" Harry whined and reached down between them to fist both of their cocks, dripping precum and threatening to burst. A low growl rumbled from Snape's throat and he reached around to grab Harry's arse and coaxed him closer. As Severus's hands massaged his backside, Harry dropped forwards, his arm wedged between them awkwardly, but not uncomfortably, and bit Snape's bottom lip. He revelled in the way Severus gripped his arse tighter and gave him smack. The sound echoed around them and Harry's lips parted with a supple moan, "Fuck, yes-" He knew he was about to cum, "Again-" he whined and Snape obliged, sharper this time, and palmed the spot afterwards to erase the sting.

Harry came first and he came hard against Snape's own cock. He removed his hand from between them and rode out the waves of pleasure grinding his hips rhythmically until Snape cried out his name and came, too. A sticky warm mess between them, Harry didn't care and dropped his head against Snape's chest.

Snape, however, did seem to care, because he grabbed his wand and vanished the cum between them.

"There's a disorder for that, you know," Harry murmured, annoyed as Snape pushes him off in order to pick up and fold their clothing. At least, Harry thought, he waited until after.

"For what?" 

"For being so obsessive compulsive."

Snape rolled his eyes and rounded on Harry, "What is the disorder?"

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."

Snape snorted, "How clever. There's nothing wrong with being neat and organized. You should try it, I shudder to think of the chaos that must be your dormitory," Harry laughed at this and stretched out against the sheets, unashamed by his nudity. He let Severus's eyes caress the length of his body, and only flushed as Snape's cock twitched again. Harry pulled the covers over himself and waited for Snape to get back in bed.

When he did, Harry rolled over and draped an arm across Severus's chest where he resumed his perpetual tracing of all Snape's old wounds. There was a content smile on his face, on that Severus could see if he turned his head just to the left.

"You are astonishingly impressive," Snape said, his voice breathy with the epiphany (the same one he'd been having about Harry since this had all started). "The way you can turn it on and off. One minute you have to be the 'Chosen One' and The Boy Who Lived, the boy who has defeated the Dark Lord on multiple occasions-not to mention all the trauma you've suffered-" Snape shook his head in disbelief, "My only regret is that I didn't recognize it sooner. I could've spent more time guiding you and less time assaulting you."

Harry was shocked by the admittedly unexpected pronouncement from Snape. He braced his arm against the man's chest and pushed himself up, "What's in the past is done, Severus, it's alright. We're both different people now," Harry insisted with urgency as he refused to let Snape revisit the depressing lane of their worst memories of one another.

 

Snape had woken him in the early hours of the morning, breakfast laid out on a newly conjured table, Harry's plate already filled with Snape's expectations of him. It did not look as daunting as he expected it to and he supposed that was because he had been pleasantly pleased with the night they had spent together, the promise of a final day before Snape transported Harry to the Burrow.

He was glad to see the Weasley's, albeit a bit nervous because the thought of Charlie's last letter loomed over him. Nervous even more so, because he was full to bursting with thoughts of Severus Snape and had no one to tell. His real concern was that Remus or Hermione might notice something off about him, that their prying questions would crack him. 

Harry pushed the thought from his mind, ready to laugh at the idea that anyone would be able to pull one of his desperately kept secrets out of him. It had never happened before, anyway. He started in on his plate, careful to eat slowly and savor his food instead of scarfing it down to get it over with. He didn't finish everything, but Snape approved the attempt and let Harry go to get dressed for their quick trip to Hogsmeade.

They met in the Entrance Hall and walked in pleasant silence to Hogsmeade. Snape seemed to have fully recovered from the night before, but Harry found himself stealing covert glances in the other's direction.

"I can see you, you know," Snape muttered, catching Harry's last look and caused him to blush pink, "And now you're blushing?"

"I'm not blushing, it's cold," Harry protested stubbornly.

Snape glanced ahead and behind them, they were out of reach of the castle, no one would see them from here and no last minute shoppers could be seen-

Harry gasped, shocked as the nearest tree pressed against his back, and Severus against his front, "Perhaps I should take it upon myself to warm you up," It was not a question, it was not supposed to be a question. Snape looked down his nose, not unkindly, and met Harry's fiercely green eyes, burning the color of warmth and spring-so completely the opposite of snow, falling and sticking in his messy hair. So far from the breathy clouds that puffed from his lips, parted with excitement.

"So scandalous," Harry purred before he stood on the tips of his toes and crushed their mouths together, giving more than he was taking. He pressed their hips together and tangled himself in Snape's rose, his cock heavy with excitement and the sudden thought that Snape could just take him, right then and there if he wanted to.

It was over all too soon as laughter sounded ahead and both men jumped to righten themselves. Harry grinned stupidly, his face bowed to the ground at they walked and Snape, his face held no immediately readable expression at all. 

"Why the stolen looks?" Severus asked him then, once the passing family was out of earshot.

"Just making sure you're okay-"

"No need, Potter, I survived long before you, I will survive long after this is over," Snape realized his words after he said them and by then it was too late.

"What do you mean after this is over?" Harry snapped and stopped Snape in his tracks wit a hand on his arm which Severus had to shake off immediately, eyes flicking to survey other passers-by.

"I didn't mean it like that, Harry-"

Harry frowned at him and stony silence took them then, accompanied them in their walk through the village while Harry made several stops along the way, instructing Snape to wait outside each one-part of the illusion.

"This is far too much, Potter-"

"It's not all for you," Harry muttered as he pushed into the Apothecary that had an adjoining door to a pre-made potions shop. Of course, he couldn't get Snape any pre-made potions for fear of Severus being insulted by his candor.

Instead, he focused on a section of rare ingredients, scales and Unicorn tails, Phoenix feathers, Sphinx blood and Hippogriff talons, powdered Mermaid fin and Grindylow poison (the kind that paralyzed victims once they were deep enough in the swamp). He had all of it placed in beautiful black velvet boxes, which he was insured would guarantee freshness. He finished the gift off with a set of indestructible vials, a tiny emerald imbedded in the cork of each one. It was a fairly grand, expensive gesture, but still, it felt incomplete. He gnawed on his bottom lip the entire way back to the castle and it was Snape's turn to steal concerned glances of him.

As they approached the castle, Snape and Harry sighed collectively. This was it then, "Wrap your gifts, collect your things, we can floo from the headmasters office around noon."

Harry nodded and offered a wane smile as they parted, Snape for the dungeons and Harry for the tower where he supposed he could take his time getting the last of his necessary belongings together. Harry took his time wrapping his gifts, some very complicated looking books for Hermione, a bunch of quidditch supplies for Ron, a Pygmy Puff for Ginny (which he supposed he'd have to give her straight away), a new clock for Mrs. Weasley so she could replace her hands on, a muggle telephone and instruction manual for Mr. Weasley, a proper tea kettle and assortment of looseleaf tea in a fancy chest for Remus, and a few other knick knacks to gift to the rest of the red headed bunch. For Charlie, of course, he had purchased remedies for dragon burns and multi-purpose anti-curse potions to provide the user enough time to make it to a proper hospital before death. And lastly, he had seen a fantastic leather cuff last minute and had the underside engraved with the words "Dragon Tamer".

All in all, he felt like he had a pretty good haul for everyone this year and shrunk each bit down to fit in his knapsack, along with the rest of his clothes and things he may need for the next two and a half weeks. This was far more handy than taking his trunk, and he could have one of the others put everything back to normal size again once he got there.

Severus was waiting behind the gargoyle for him when he arrived. He made to step on the moving stairs, But Severus stopped him with a firm hand and pressed their lips together brusquely, "I prefer to say goodbye away from the prying eyes of previous Headmasters," Snape murmured against Harry's lips before they collided together firmly, savoring their last private moments.

"You promise you'll stop by on Christmas?"

"I was thinking Christmas Eve," Snape said quietly and Harry nodded, it was all the same to him. And Christmas Eve, they both noted, was a day closer. They made their way upstairs and Snape unlocked Dumbledore's floo with a wordless incantation, "Until then, Harry."

"Goodbye, Severus," as Harry brushed passed him, he made sure to touch the tips of Snape's fingers and lingered as long as possible. It wasn't enough but it was something, and then he was gone and Harry tumbled out of the fireplace, toppling him and an unknown red-head to the ground.

"Oh, fuck-Merlin, sorry-" Harry blurted, horror in his voice in case he had cursed in front of Mrs. Weasley. Then butterflies in his chest when he realized it was not her, nor Ron, Ginny, not the twins, not Bill-

But Charlie.

"Wotcher, Potter, first day walking?" Charlie teased, his voice strong and rough as he raised a scarred eyebrow, hands braced either of Harry's arms, and Harry found himself fighting an impossibly flagrant flush.

"Er, something like that," Harry returned and pushed himself to his feet before he held a hand down to Charlie, "It's good to see you again," and it really was good, despite the butterflies, despite the strange friction in his pants that he wanted desperately to ignore. 

"You too, Harry. I suppose this is the way I expected it," Charlie teased, his hand lingered in Harry's, "Falling into my life, and all," he added casually after sensing Harry's confusion. The words were so utterly corny, but spoken with such confidence that Harry had to laugh, lit with Charlie's sudden and ridiculous charm, "Come on then, I'll show ye' up, had to get creative with the rooms this year," Harry grinned at the notion, glad that the Weasley house would be full to bursting with all his favorite people. He was, expectedly, sharing a room with Ron.

Charlie turned to leave, but Harry realized he would need his help, "Actually, could you help me for a second? Underage magic and all, I shrunk all my things-"

"Say no more," Charlie pulled his wand and flicked it at each gift respectively, taking stock of the dragon-scaled wrapping paper. He said nothing, but Harry knew what he was thinking.

"Yes, you prat, it's for you," Harry threw his sheet over the gifts to hide them (poorly) and started on neatly folding and stacking his clothes until he had himself a neat number of four, perfectly sorted and even piles of shirts, pants, sweaters, and briefs. Charlie watched him the entire time which, surprisingly, didn't make Harry all that uncomfortable.

 Charlie smiled as Harry turned around, an eyebrow quirked at his sudden desire for organization, but Harry merely shrugged. There was no way he could get into it without flushing terribly at thoughts of Severus, and everything he had...learned over the time they'd spent together.

"Shall we, then? The others are in the back, Bill has cast an excellent warming charm," Charlie added, though Harry wouldn't have minded the cold. He enjoyed it, really. The way it numbed him, the fact that he could see his breath in cloudy white puffs. It reminded him he was alive. He nodded in response and followed Charlie the whole way down.

He was shocked, though, to see Hermione, wrist bound in a cast and sling that she kept close to her body, "I know, I know. I slipped on ice up the drive the minute we pulled in," Hermione sighed and shook her head, "Mum and dad had a wonderful trip planned to the Alps but, I would've been useless there. I didn't want them to miss it so, I figured I'd have myself a proper Weasley Christmas," she grinned, and Harry gave her a one-armed hug on her good side, "You look...really good, Harry."

He smiled and nodded as Ron bounded over to them and gave Harry a strong clap on the back, "Yeah, thank you. I feel really good. Things are...okay," he smiled and laughed as both Ron and Hermione shared a furtive glance, "Listen, I know. Let's talk later after everyone has gone to bed, alright?" When Ron and Hermione both smiled in agreement, Harry threw one arm around each of them, "You two are my best friends, you know? Rather, my family."

"Friends are the family you choose," Hermione added softly, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, 'Mione, don't-" Ron started, though he was smiling warmly at her and rubbing gentle circles into the small of her back. They stayed like that for a little while, all a bit emotional but not caring, because it had been a long while since they'd been able to act like this, due to Harry's hot and cold moods.

It wasn't until Harry felt a snowball collide with the back of his head that he whipped around, "You lot done crying over there or what?" Charlie taunted, leading Harry to roll up his own impressive snowball and launch it back, a snort escaping his lips as Charlie ducked and hit Fred right in the face. From there on out it was every man for himself. Harry jammed a handful of snow down Ron's back, who jumped around like a monkey until Hermione went to help him, receiving her own snowball to the back from Ginny who made a face at her that only the two girls could decipher. When Mrs. Weasley came out to call them in for dinner, someone hit her with a snowball and caused Mr. Weasley to retaliate with his own fierce throws, egged on by the tip of his wand. Harry, Ginny, and Charlie were the biggest targets, as they took the most ridiculous shots at the others, eventually teaming up, back to back, while they surveyed the yard, the rest of them in hiding spots. 

"There, it's George, er, Fred-oh, sod it!" Ginny shouted and the three of them launched snowballs at the spot Ginny had pointed. 

It wasn't till after that they realized the trap they'd fallen into, because Fred, or maybe George whistled, and the three of them turned to see the rest of the Weasley clan, plus Hermione, fully armed and ready to unload. Ginny ran for cover, receiving only a single snowball to the chest before she turned, while Harry and Charlie received the brunt of it until Charlie made a daring move and lunged at Harry, tackling him behind a mound of snow that had been built what seemed like a lifetime ago. 

They both laughed breathlessly as the fire seemed to cease, and Harry was suddenly painfully aware of Charlie on top of him, his face flushed from exertion and a smile making his features indelibly handsome. When they made eye contact, Harry knew what was coming, and he knew that he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to stop it.

When Charlie pressed his lips against Harry's he did not freeze up. He did not play the deer-in-headlights look. He had known this was coming. He had been prepared for it and, surprisingly, he realized he wanted it. In a different way than he had wanted Severus Snape. This was...safe, it was warm. It was comfortable and welcoming. Something he had always known, in some respect. A life with Charlie might be easy, though Harry wasn't getting ahead of himself. 

He found himself kissing Charlie back, more intently so, his hands wound in Charlie's hair, his lips moving synchronously against the others. A barely there flick of the tongue, and Charlie engulfed him, leaving Harry breathless as the other pulled away.

"We should-" Harry started, breathless and flushed from more than just the snow all over him.

"Already ahead of you, Potter," Charlie insisted and pointed to the barrage of snowballs next to him. He flicked his wand and sent them flying into the others, each one had been bewitched to a specific target, which left Harry to throw the others while he had cover. By the end of it, they were all soaked and frozen, despite the warming charm. They smiled nonetheless,  ear to ear, and begged for hot chocolate with dinner, which Mrs. Weasley was happy to oblige.

Harry found himself with Hermione on his left and Charlie on his right.

He didn't think he minded this, even as Charlie reached over to squeeze his thigh towards the end of their meal. Though Harry had stopped eating long ago, he knew he had eaten far more than would have been expected of him...in other circumstances. 

"You seem happier. Much," Charlie said quietly, while the others were wrapped up in conversation.

"I...think I am," he admitted at a whisper and turned his head just slightly to the side and smiled at Charlie warmly, "I've put a lot to rest with my...family. I think I can move on now."

"I'm glad to hear it, Harry. I--this is an incredible side of you, I have to admit," Harry felt warmed instantly by Charlie's words and resisted the urge to touch his thigh under the table with thoughts of Severus. Severus who was visiting in two days for Christmas Eve at his bequest. Severus who had made him cum only a day earlier. 

Harry felt his cock twitch at the thought and ran his face over his hands, _Honestly, Potter, get it together,_ he told himself with an inward groan, glad that Charlie had removed his hand from its perch against his thigh. The meal came to an end, shortly after Harry refused a second helping of treacle tart, unable to fathom another bite beyond everything he'd already eaten. As they helped Mrs. Weasley clean up, the crew slowly dispersed, until it was only Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting by the fire. Hermione sat on the sofa, Ron laid, his head in her lap, so casually Harry didn't even think twice about what it might mean. He himself was curled up warmly in an armchair, wearing Severus's sweater, returned to its normal too-big size, and large cozy socks, loose around his lower calves.

Bill had broken out a bottle of Firewhisky behind Mrs. Weasley's back and had left it behind when he and Charlie went to bed. Surprisingly, Hermione was the one who had grabbed it first and taken a cheeky sip, passing it to Ron and then he to Harry. They continued like that, chatting absently about gifts they'd gotten for the others, about how nice it was that they were all together. Each sip left them more talkative than the last until finally, the bottle was empty and Harry had found almost all the courage he needed.

"I need to tell you both something," he whispered and despite the fuzzy warmth that consumed them all, the whisper had not been overlooked, and he had both their attention immediately, "It's...dark. As you'd said. It's...painful, for me. I can't give you many details but-"

"Harry. Stop, whatever you're comfortable enough to tell us is-"

"Anything, Harry, it's okay!"

Both Ron and Hermione spoke simultaneously with reassurance, reducing them all too impressive giggles.

"I've really been struggling for a while, as you both have suspected. I-I-" Harry took a deep breath and focused his gaze on the fire, "I suffered...unimaginable abuse at the hands of my uncle this past summer. Last week. I won't go into detail but..." Harry shuddered, "it was worse than the Cruciatus from Voldemort. Worse than-" Harry shook his head, grateful that they didn't press him further, "I've been pushing you both away. I haven't been eating or sleeping. I've been pretending. I've been wearing glamours," Hermione let out a quiet sob and buried her face in her hands, muttering something about how she _knew it_. "I was hurting myself. Self-destructing. I thought...I thought I would be better off dead-"

"Absolutely not, Harry, how could you? We all need you! We love you!" Ron started, his voice raising before Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth and he looked bashful.

"I know, Ron, I know. I just--I couldn't see any of that then. Snape, though, us working together. It has really helped me. I've really been trying these past few days and I truly think I can do it. I've grown stronger already, happier, even-"

"I know you have, Harry," Hermione insisted through tears that both warmed him and broke his heart as Ron nodded furiously in agreement.

"I might try and push you away, I might resist help, but I swear. I'm working on everything. I need you both," Harry finished, not quite the profound declaration he had meant to have with them this holiday, but Firewhiskey had taken all three of them over and it didn't seem to matter as Hermione shoved Ron off of her lap and they both threw their arm(s) around Harry warmly, "It will all be okay."

"Yes, together, everything will be okay," Hermione said into his shoulder, and Ron clapped him on the back in agreement. 

Harry knew this wasn't the end, that questions would come later, that he would have to answer more about his abuse. He knew that, and he was okay with that. Not just yet, but he knew they would give him time to come around as they always had.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like the pieces of his life were coming together. Slowly, but surely.

Harry did not dream and, when he woke, he woke to the smell of bacon, excited for breakfast and the preparation for the day to come.

 


	34. In Which Everything is Ruined at Once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. This next chapter is going to be amazingly fluffy and then immediately, terribly painful and concerning.  
> I'm sorry, but not totally. 
> 
> And, I need to point out that my version of Severus Snape doesn't look like the Alan Rickman Severus Snape. I've got more of a black haired silver fox look and I'm taking creative risks here when I say my Snape is a hot mother fucker who unfortunately hid behind his cauldrons and greasy hair (which is greasy no longer and more of a sexy man bun). I'll try and find some fan art to show you what I mean but use your imagination ;) 
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply.

At Mrs. Weasley's bequest, they had spent the entirety of the day preparing for the Christmas Eve party. Though, he wasn't sure what else needed to be done, considering the previous day had consisted of much the same. By one o'clock, the entirety of the house, the yard, and everywhere else imaginable was so beyond spotless, Harry would have licked every surface with his tongue to prove it if it weren't for the fact that Mrs. Weasley would have made them clean it all again. He had helped her prepare the food, in a far more measured way than he ever would have before, thanks to Snape's influence. They had finished everything. The food was all set out, covered by a protective charm to keep them all from picking while they waited.

It wasn't until five o'clock on the dot that Mrs. Weasley finally unleashed the appetizers after the first few of the Order had arrived. Followed by Aunt Muriel who was the opposite of an absolute peach. Harry and Ron had to stifle a snort as she berated Fleur for her bare shoulders and lack of propriety. Hermione hid her smile behind her hands as Fleur spun away and cursed the woman in French before Hermione, unfortunately, was pulled along with her, no doubt on the receiving end of Fleur's venting. Bill sighed as he watched his fiance go and turned to Charlie, "She's a fiery woman," he stated admirably, "Half-veela though, so when she's angry, she's  _fucking terrifying_."

The lot of them burst into laughter, remembering the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup two years ago. But with those memories came painful ones and Harry fought to push them away. He closed his eyes, shut them tight against the pain in his chest, the flash of Cedric Diggory, eyes open and unseeing in front of him. Mr. Diggory, who had sobbed over Cedric's body, guttural cries overwhelming the rest of the crowd. Harry felt sick, nauseous. He pushed his way through the crowd and found himself in the toilet, arms braced on either side of the sink while he dry-heaved. He splashed water on his face and swallowed thickly, doing his best to keep down the mince-pie he'd eaten without a second thought. 

 _Why is this so bloody hard?_ He berated himself, smacking his hand against the side of the sink in frustration. He supposed he knew why it was so hard, knew that it would take an incredibly long time to build more positive habits and less painful ones. Not to mention it would take time to overcome his guilt and forgive himself for getting so many people murdered.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Charlie's voice sounded from the other side of the door, startling Harry out of his reverie. He'd been pulled somewhere dark again, somewhere he was desperate not to be. He was grateful for Charlie's distraction.

"Just a minute," Harry responded and splashed water on his face and the back of his neck to calm himself, patted himself dry, and pulled open the bathroom door, a false grin painted on his face. Charlie apparently saw right through it, because he raised an eyebrow and handed Harry a drink.

"Don't tell mum," Charlie winked as Harry stepped out of the lou, only Charlie didn't move backward, and Harry found his back pressed against the nearest wall. Charlie stood impossibly close, one arm was braced against the wall behind Harry, "I don't know what it is about you, Potter, but I can't stop thinking about you--not after that kiss."

Harry flushed and dropped his eyes, "What exactly am I not to tell your mum about, again?" he teased, trying to distract himself from the way Charlie's breath was suddenly on his neck, hot and tempting. Harry closed his eyes as Charlie's lips pressed softly against his weak spot, a moan built in his throat and escaped to Charlie's delight. They were more evenly matched when it came to their height, though Charlie was still a good head taller than Harry. Charlie looked down at him and smiled warmly. This was different than the way he felt when he was with Severus. He and Severus were always hungry and desperate with passion. Impossible desire and forbidden lust. Not to mention, Harry was fascinated by Severus. Intoxicated and obsessed with all the mystery that surrounded him, all the things he wanted to know.

And Charlie, he was interesting too. Interesting in a more, in your face, dragon tamer sort of way. The foolhardy Gryffindor type. There wasn't much mystery about him, but there was sincerity and kindness. A certain security that Harry felt which was markedly different from the insecurity he felt around Snape, as if he could lose him or be pushed away and rejected at any moment. Charlie had pursued him and continued to do so, while Severus...it was quite the opposite. Harry had kissed him first. Severus had given Harry the chance to call the shots (though, if Harry wanted to give Severus more credit, there was an entirely good reason for that).  

"Are you going to kiss me?" Charlie asked, putting the ball in Harry's court, all while at the same time taking control of the situation and demanding something from it. Harry laughed and tilted his head, forgetting his last thought's about Severus Snape in order to kiss Charlie just as fully and warmly as they had kissed before. Charlie wrapped a strong arm around his waist and pulled Harry closer. Charlie's lips were rougher, chapped from the cold and not the same sort of refreshing that Severus's were. He tasted the whiskey and something almost smokey, unlike the cool mint of Severus's mouth. Harry didn't mind the difference, it was just...different. For a moment, Harry didn't register the sound of the creaking stairs until they were much too close and they struggled to extract themselves in time, faces flushed and lips swollen. 

It was only Remus, but Harry suddenly felt like he knew everything, the way his eyes bore into him. The way his eyebrow was raised and a quirk of a smile was on his lips, "Er, right--" Charlie mumbled shooting Harry a wink as he slipped past Remus and down the stairs, running a hand through his hair. Harry crinkled his nose and looked away from Remus, feeling rather like he was supposed to say something to explain himself. 

"I--it...just sort of happened?" Harry blurted and tilted his glass towards his lips, draining the entire thing in one go, "Oh, Merlin, Remus--" he covered his eyes with one of his hands and was surprised to hear Remus let out a snort of laughter. 

"Molly had said you'd gone upstairs, just didn't mention anything about her son heading up as well," he smiled warmly and shook his head, "Come here Harry," his arms were outstretched and Harry found himself desperate to be wrapped in them. The heat and strength of Remus was more than he'd remembered it, and the thought that he was taking care of himself made Harry incredibly relieved. Of course, it could be the fact that the full moon was a few days away and it seemed like his strength and stature always built a bit to prepare itself. But still, there was something different about him. Something less...tortured, maybe. 

"You look good, Remus, I'm so glad to see you, fuck," Harry laughed warmly as they separated, eliciting a laugh from Remus himself, "Sorry about that, by the way. I know it's--"

"As if I have any room to judge anyone else. Besides, Harry, it's quite different in the wizarding world. Age and gender are far less a factor in relationships, as opposed to the muggle world. It's really quite fascinating. If your soul, your magic heart binds with someone, there really isn't a power anywhere that can stop you and that person from being together. The Wizarding world is far more open to that than... _lycanthropy_ , let's say," Remus winked at him and gave him a clap on the shoulder, "Molly said you might need help with your gifts?" Harry nodded eagerly in agreement and showed Remus the way to his room, filling him in about his lessons and how he didn't think Snape was as much of a git anymore... _if he only knew_! Despite Remus's impassioned speech about age and gender being inconsequential, Harry hardly believed this notion would apply when it came to Severus Snape, of all people.

Everyone was sitting around the Christmas tree. It appeared that someone had cast an expansion charm, which gave them all plenty of space to sit comfortably behind their presents. Harry passed their presents out cheerfully, though he noted that Severus had not yet arrived. It wasn't until they'd finished opening and each of them had a wonderful haul that Hermione nodded her head towards the last wrapped present beside him, "Is that for Professor Snape?"

Harry nodded, "I asked him to come, he'd said he would, but...maybe something came up," he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, though, he couldn't help but notice a smile had grown on Hermione's face.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that..." she trailed off and left him standing there, dumbfounded until he heard Snape's voice greeting members of the order behind him.

Harry turned, his face lit up instantly and they made eye contact immediately. Harry winked after he was sure no one was looking at him and resisted the urge to launch himself at Severus. All in due time, he promised himself.

Someone had sidled up along side him and placed a hand on the small of his back, Harry turned curiously to see none other than Charlie, but suddenly, his touch made him feel like his skin was crawling. It wasn't Charlie's fault, but the sudden presence of Snape caused him to be so self-conscious and...uncomfortable with Charlie so close. Merlin, fuck, they'd kissed. More than once. Harry had let it happen, he'd encouraged it. Fuck. He knew he'd have to confess but--

"Something on your mind?" Charlie wondered curiously and passed Harry his glass before he picked himself up another. Harry was grateful for that, at least. He could continue to imbibe himself on alcohol until he didn't feel so self-conscious or rather, Snape conscious, "Is it Snape? I'm surprised he showed up--"

"I invited him, actually," Harry blurted, unable to stop himself in case Charlie had the urge to go on and insult the man that he had really come to care about.

"Oh? Interesting," Charlie admitted with a nod, though there was no judgment in his voice and he didn't seem bothered by it at all, "Lupin doesn't seem bothered at all, I wasn't sure how he'd react, being that he cares about you so much."

"He's...understanding really. He knows you're a good guy--but, Charlie, listen, this isn't...I don't think we should be anything serious, or pursue anything. I'm not--" Harry sighed and shook his head, "I don't think I'm ready for any sort of commitment," Harry finished strongly around another sip of his drink. Charlie didn't look upset at all, in fact, he was smiling.

"Of course, Harry. I'd never rush or pressure you, we're friends and we happened to share a snog. Nothing has to change. I'm a big boy, Harry, do whatever you need to," Charlie gave his arm a squeeze and quite daringly so pressed his lips against Harry's cheek before he walked off and joined in a chorus of merry song with Hagrid who was perched in the corner on one of his own stools he'd brought from his hut. He smiled at the scene. He couldn't remember the last time they'd all felt so warm. Couldn't remember the last time he had been in a room that didn't feel as if it was crumbling down around him.

Harry fell into comfortable conversation with Ron about the fate of the Chudley Cannons this year, happy to switch over as Hermione joined them with a constant struggle to itch her arm. Harry laughed at her attempts before, finally, he told her to hold her arm out so he could carefully shove his wand down the length of the cast, "Oh, perfect, Harry, that feels-" Hermione sighed, leaving Harry to snort and Ron to flush furiously before they all broke up in uncomfortably-comfortable giggles.

"I am sorry you didn't get to see your parents much, Hermione," Harry admitted gently once they'd composed themselves, pink-cheeked and merry. Hermione waved him off.

"I'll be back with them the week before term, it'll be enough time," she insisted.

It wasn't until every guest had arrived that Harry had realized why Snape would have preferred to attend on Christmas Eve. This was the  _party,_ the one that everyone would be attending. Family, Order, friends. The next morning with just Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley's would have been extremely uncomfortable. Snape chose that moment to approach him then and Hermione steered Ron away with a soft smile at Harry, while Ron muttered something about signaling if needed to be rescued.

"Good to see you, Professor," Harry said quietly, a teasing lilt to his voice that he was sure no one else would pick up on.

"Wish I could say the same, Potter," Snape drawled, though the smirk that picked up the corner of his mouth contradicted him.

"You're late," Harry pointed out with a raised eyebrow, "doesn't that go against your very-useful OCD?"

"Brat," Snape murmured, though there was a small smile twitching on his lips, "Can we step away for a moment? I have something for you."

Harry's chest exploded with warmth and he nodded, "There's a room down the hall," he said quietly, "Meet you there." 

Harry set down his drink and picked up the gift he'd gotten for Severus. He waited until no one was looking before he edged a way, not wanting to draw any attention to himself or Severus, no less. He was standing, looking out at the snow. When he turned around, the door was closed and Severus had cast a silencing charm for privacy, "No one saw me but, we can never be too careful," he insisted as they both stepped forward to meet one another. Their lips crushed bruisingly together, and a moan left Harry as a growl escaped Severus--this was different than kissing Charlie. It was fiercely passionate and something he had been craving since the moment they'd said goodbye. When they parted, Severus reached up to hold his chin in his hand, "Weasley is quite daring, isn't he?"

"About that--" Harry started, his stomach twisting in a wretched knot.

"No. Not today. We'll discuss it another time, for now, let's just enjoy ourselves and steal what time we can," Severus insisted and ran his thumb over Harry's swollen lips. He smiled appreciatively and nodded. This was brilliant. They could worry about it another time, and maybe, just maybe, he could make it through this day just as happy as he'd been when it had started.

"Here, I have your present," Harry insisted, picking up the gift where he'd placed it. Last minute, Harry had pulled his highlighted and annotated copy of 'Howl' from his trunk and included it in the wrapping process. It was perfect, all of his favorite parts. He knew Severus would appreciate it more than anything he'd bought him. Snape opened his mouth to protest, but Harry rolled his eyes, "Get over it, come on!" Harry urged, excitement building in his chest. Severus snorted and slowly set about opening the gift, folding and creasing the paper neatly. He didn't tear a single bit. Harry was impatient, but this was a display he wouldn't mind watching. It was painfully endearing.

Once the gifts were finally open, Snape inspected each one carefully, his face brightening measurably each time he identified a new rare ingredient, "Harry this--is incredible. It's too much," but he continued to inspect the vials, shaking his head once he realized what their capabilities were and the ritzy decor was so unlike him but so perfect, "I could strangle you," he muttered and then, finally, pulled the book from its wrapping and raised an eyebrow, "A used copy of 'Howl'?" Harry shook his head, a smile on his lips before he nodded towards the book and encouraged Harry to open it. Once he did, his face changed, "This is your copy?"

Harry nodded, "Highlighted and annotated, every one of my favorite passages--" he didn't get the chance to finish, because Snape had cast everything aside and pulled Harry into his arms, not for the passionate, lust-filled kiss he was expecting, but for a strong, protective embrace.

"I don't know how to thank you--"

"Don't. Kiss me instead?" Harry purred and didn't give Severus time to make a choice because he was pulling the man closer and searching under his robes with his hands recklessly. Harry pressed his hips hard against Snape's own, refusing to desist until Snape moaned into his mouth and pulled away to nip at Harry's neck.

"Reckless boy--"

"Insatiable fool--" Harry mocked, grinning against Snape's lips.

"We have to get back," but even as he said it, Snape had lifted Harry's legs around his waist and pressed him hard against the wall.

"Alright," Harry agreed but deepened their kiss and coaxed Snape's tongue messily with his own, not a care in the world, "I want you--" he groaned, reaching for Severus's belt buckle, "I want you now, I don't care, we can't wait--"

Snape seemed almost as if he was about to oblige, but he stepped away and set Harry down, his cock throbbing and desperate for the friction he'd been enjoying with Harry's own erection pressed against him, "No, Harry. I told you, we have to wait."

Harry groaned and reached to press his palm against Snape's cock anyway, rubbing and massaging it until he was sure Snape was close to his release, "If you insist," Harry sighed at long last, pulling his hand away with a cruel smirk on his face, "I guess you'll have to wait for that, too," and Harry stepped away, only Snape reached for the back of his head and pulled them together again. Not gentle by any means, Snape pulled Harry's head back and elicited a sharp gasp from Harry that quickly turned into a moan as Snape ravaged the exposed column of his neck and left his mark behind.

They were breathless against one another and both of them wanted so much more but knew that now was not the time nor the place, "Here," Snape muttered and passed Harry his own present, "Quickly, they must've noticed we've been missing by now," as Harry tried to open the wrapping as carefully as Severus had, he realized he was far too impatient for it and tore open the gift with ease, letting the paper fall carelessly to the ground. Severus laughed and flicked his wand, disappearing all the trash they'd left behind before he reached to try and smooth Harry's hair and straighten his sweater until he looked more like himself and less like he'd just been ravaged by a man old enough to be his father.

"Severus--" Harry breathed as he looked from the gift to Snape and back again, "This is incredible."

"You said you liked gardening, I thought--"

"It's perfect. Beyond thoughtful," Harry grinned, and he meant it, taking in the box of endless different seeds and gardening tools. 

"I figured you could use them this summer," Harry's cheer darkened at the thought. Right. The summer. When he'd have to return somewhere with the Dursley's and--"My garden could use tending, as you well know."

It took Harry a moment for the message to sink in, but when he finally looked back up at Snape who was smiling gently, he nearly dropped everything as he threw his arms around Snape's neck, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, "Are you--you're not having a go--?"

"I cleared it with Dumbledore yesterday. You'll stay with me over the summer and you'll return to school if ever I have...other things to attend to."

Harry knew what that meant and he wasn't going to press it, not today.

They left the room separately, both of them had thrown tactless excuses once they were questioned on where they'd disappeared off to, but no one seemed to care much that they seemed to be lying.

As Harry found his seat, he also found Severus stealing Charlie's usual position next to him felt slightly guilty (again) for the way he'd behaved with both men. He had been with Severus intimately, and yet, he had led Charlie on two days ago. Merlin, he was an arse. Even though Snape had told him not to worry about it, Harry couldn't help himself with the only two men he'd ever willingly kissed right in front of him. Harry filled his plate with meager portions earning a jab in the ribs from Snape, which he ignored, content on pushing food around his plate for now. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't, he felt sick again, a sudden turn from his previously Christmas-feels imbibed intoxication.

The conversation grew throughout the room, everyone tapered off into their own group and, surprisingly, Severus addressed Hermione, "I thought you might be spending the holiday with your parents, Miss Granger?" He questioned gently, spearing a green bean and eyeing it carefully before Harry stamped on his foot and encouraged him to have better manners. Severus ate the bean and, clearly satisfied, he continued to work on his meal, eyes flicking to Harry's plate on occasion. 

If Hermione was shocked, she didn't give any inkling at all, "Oh, well, I was supposed to, Professor, but I slipped clumsily down my drive the first day home and couldn't stand to risk their skiing trip in the Alps," she sighed and offered a careless shrug, "This is quite nice though-"

"Where in the Alps do your parents stay?" Snape blurted, not even pretending to listen to the rest of what Hermione had been about to say. Something had changed in his face and it was evident that there were more pieces moving behind the scenes.

"Hotel _Monte Rosa_ , where we always stay. It's over two-hundred years old, the architecture is magnificent. It's in a beautiful village at the foot of the mountain, predominantly a non-magical area, but I did read that there is a magical community closer to the forest-"

"Alastor," Snape spoke then, cutting Hermione off again, his voice wasn't any louder than usual, but his tone seemed to attract Mad Eye's attention immediately. The two didn't say another word, but both excused themselves from the table before they walked (and limped) to another room. Harry was almost disappointed, it was a conversation that he believed Snape would have appreciated having with Hermione if he hadn't cut it short. It was just the thing he enjoyed talking about, it was just the thing that Hermione could have truly entertained him with. Harry felt silly thinking it, realizing that he wanted Hermione and Snape to get along...that it was important for his friends to accept the man. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

"What was that about?" Ron started, loud enough to Hermione that Harry could hear it himself. When they both looked at him, he shook his head. He was just as clueless as they were. It wasn't until Kingsley rose at the bequest of Mad-Eye that Harry began to truly worry. He caught Charlie's eyes across the table and raised his brow, sure the elder Weasley had more information than they did, but Charlie could only shrug, and Harry found it hard not to believe him. 

Harry rose from the table and edged towards the conversation, all the while pretending he was headed for the bathroom. All he heard was Kingsley saying he would send word immediately to the Minister for Magic in Switzerland, "What's going on?" Harry interjected, not caring that all three men rounded on him in shock, "We've got a right to know if it's--"

Before he could finish his thought an explosion sounded, loud enough that a majority of them covered their ears with their hands while Harry and the more seasoned Order members drew their wands in the direction of the explosion. Wands were pointing in every direction. The entire property seemed to be shaking. Snape stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around Harry's upper arm, ready to yank him behind for proper bodily protection.

"Is everyone alright?" Mr. Weasley questioned, his eyes flicking over Molly and his children, including Harry and Hermione before anyone else. Harry was warmed by this and started quickly for the front door--

"Potter," Snape hissed in warning as Harry tugged himself free, but Harry merely flicked his wand in a wordless, complicated motion, causing the entire house to go transparent, allowing them to see outside. Ginny gasped, but Bill calmed her.

"A one-way transparency charm," Hermione started, "That's quite advanced magic, Harry." 

Some murmured in agreement, but Harry simply flicked his wand again, pulling Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's own wands from their left-behind places in the burrow. He held them behind him for each of them to take on kind, "They're attacking the wards, we have to be ready," as they retrieved their wands, Harry kept his eyes trained on the outside of the house, counting, "I see ten," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione who stood just behind him, though they looked bewildered, "Hang-on, ten, plus...two more, only..." Harry looked around for confirmation and it was  Mad-Eye who gave it to him.

"Ten and two hostages."

"Fourteen," Snape hissed, "The four surrounding the back are disillusioned, the element of surprise," Snape muttered, his lip curling in distaste and bewilderment, "This is not according to plan, they've done this on their own. The Dark Lord had planned an attack on a magical village in the Alps, apparently, there's a lot of power to be mined at the base of a mountain--" Hermione gasped and looked wildly to Ron and Harry, unsure what this meant for her parents.

The long table was silent then, as the Death Eaters got as close as the wards would allow and, all at once, they pointed their wands straight ahead of them and began to cast the most destructive of spells, making the wards weaker and weaker with every passing second. They would break soon.

Harry turned wildly then and found Severus staring at him, "You have to go, you'll be compromised--" Harry blurted incredulously as the rest of them started speaking around him, creating a plan while the wards slowly began to crumble.

"I won't leave you, your safety is paramount--"

"No!"

"Your cloak, Harry?" Hermione suggested her wand at the ready. Harry blanched and shook his head, he hadn't packed it. It refused to shrink into his knapsack and he hadn't thought he would need it. He wanted to retch at the pained and almost disappointed look on Severus's face.

"Grimmauld place, then. Once the wards fall, everyone apparate--" His voice boomed with the command and earned a chorus of agreement as none of them seemed to have a concise plan, "We won't have much-"

"MUM! DAD!" Hermione screamed as the two on their knees were thrust forward, and they all realized immediately who the two hostages were and why Severus had been so concerned about where in the Alps her parents were staying. How had they known?

Harry looked around wildly, a woman was shrieking, the wards had fallen, Hermione had started for the front door only Ron had wrapped an arm around the waist to stop her from running into the yard. She fought desperately but gave up with a strangled sob. 

"No--I can't lose them!"

The shrieking outside amplified and Hermione's parents were writhing on the ground, unable to comprehend the pain they were suffering. Harry felt sick as he looked at Hermione and realized what he would be doing to her if he didn't save them. If they were killed because of him, he could never forgive himself. She would never forgive him. They shouldn't have to go through this. He met her eyes, his fierce and determined, hers filled with tears, "Harry, don't--"

But before she could finish her warning he slipped in front of Ron and Hermione, behind Bill and Fleur, and took off at a sprint into the yard ignoring every single scream begging him to stay. He non-verbally bellowed every hex and curse that popped into his head. 

_Diffindo._

_Incarcerous._

_Bombarda._

_Stupefy._

_Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus._

His next spell was a shielding charm, protecting him and both Hermione and Ron, who had given up trying to hold her back. Hermione had tears on her cheeks, but she was desperately focused now, and the barrage of hexes that spewed from the trio then would have been astounding, if Alastor, Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, Bill, Charlie, the twins, and Mr. Weasley hadn't shown up after them. Harry heard three distinct pops and prayed that Mrs. Weasley (alongside Ginny), Fleur, and Snape had all gotten out successfully.

Harry had cut down three Death Eaters on his own, Hermione and Ron an impressive one each. The others were engaged in battle unaided by the same element of surprise they had had. While Harry and Hermione edged closer to her parents, Ron had spun away to help his father take down another, who apparated like a coward under the pressure of being outnumbered.

"Hermione--" Harry started quietly, wanting to tell her to retreat, that he would give himself up for them, for her.

"We don't have time, Harry, save your breath," Her words were sharp and serious, but not unkind. He didn't bother protesting any further. Harry cast a shielding charm in front of them as they approached, deflecting a few nasty spells. The Cruciatus started again and Hermione let out a scream of protest as her parents fell into their own hysterics. Harry flicked his wand again, losing their shield and extending it instead to surround Hermione's parents. It would drain him terribly to keep it this strong, but he didn't care.

"Get to them, Hermione, apparate to Grimmauld place, I'll hold them off," he hissed and, as Hermione ran to her parents and slipped into their shield, Harry sent a barrage of hexes. Each different than the last and none anything like the ones he'd been taught in school. He felt a searing pain in his scar then, as a Death Eater shouted to the others that:  _The Dark Lord is coming!_

Harry felt sick, "Get out of here!" He screamed to the others as his shield around the Granger's fell, just as the last Death Eater in front of him, still masked, realized he was close. Harry watched helplessly as the Death Eater pointed his wand at the Grangers--

"Avad--"

"NO!" Harry shouted and launched himself, forgetting magic entirely as every spell he'd ever learned seemed to have escaped from him. He tackled the Death Eater to the ground and aimed a furious punch, distracting just long enough for Harry to hear someone, multiple people reaching Hermione--as the Death Eater overpowered him in his distracted state, Harry caught sight of the twins and Ron, helping Hermione apparate her parents to safety.

He felt his chest fill with relief. They were safe, they were gone--but he was painfully alone or, at least, the others didn't seem to realize he was pinned under a Death Eater who had just wrapped his hands around Harry's throat and squeezed--

_Accio--_

He tried, hopeless that his wand would respond to his summons without a wand in his hand. 

He was wrong. All eleven inches of his Holly, Phoenix feather wand was in his hand and he didn't waste another second as he pointed it at the Death Eater's chest and thought, with all his might, about the spell that was destined for enemies.

_Sectumsempra._

The scream was deafening and Harry gasped for air as the Death Eater rolled off of him, clutching his chest and covering Harry in blood.

 _What, no--_ Harry thought, turning back to the Death Eater, shocked at what the spell had done. He didn't--he hadn't meant to kill anyone, and that was where this was heading, what with the obscene amount of blood the Death Eater was losing. 

"HARRY!" He spun around to see Kingsley and Charlie sprinting towards him, the last three that were left. Spells shot after them and Harry realized that reinforcements had shown up and, surely not--

_Voldemort._

The killing curse narrowly missed both Charlie and Kingsley and Harry started towards the pair of them, his hand outstretched so Charlie could take it and Kingsley could provide coverage before they apparated.

He felt that pull behind his navel and the sickening feeling of being stuffed in a tube, followed by something he'd never experienced before--

He felt like he was on fire. It felt like the skin on his back was being flayed from him.

When they landed in front of Grimmauld place, Harry collapsed, his lungs rattling for air, "I--I can't--" 

"Get him in!" Kingsley shouted as Charlie stared down at him, dumbfounded. Harry was barely conscious as they brought him in, Mrs. Black was screaming, he could hear that much, "SEVERUS!" Kingsley shouted at the same time as Charlie bellowed for Snape, "Everyone, out, immediately. Alastor, summon Dumbledore, tell him to bring Poppy," Alastor cast a Patronus and muttered a message before sending it away with the flick of his wand. 

Harry could hardly keep his eyes open but as his head turned to the side, he caught sight of the entire room, gaping at him, tears in their eyes, "Hermione, her parents, are they--"

"Safe and alive, Harry, yes," Kingsley reassured him.

"And Severus, he's--"

"Right here, Potter, enough."

Harry let his eyes close then and his wand, which he'd been gripping as if it were the only thing that was keeping him from losing consciousness, clattered to the floor. 

Severus didn't say another word as he tied his hair up and stripped off his robe, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. He examined Harry's front and, aside from the minor cuts and more severe bruising around his throat, the blood soaking his sweater didn't seem to be his own. He flipped Harry with quick spellwork and had to steel himself for the sight that was laid out before him. Harry's back looked as if it had suffered third-degree burns. But no one had set him on fire, no. He knew this spell. He had invented it and shared it with the Dark Lord an impossibly long time ago. An eager, naive child trying to appease a sadistic dictator. It was curse burn that, even when (or if) healed, would cause the sufferer immense pain for days to come. The Dark Lord had wanted a spell for torture, and now Harry, _his_ Harry was--

Snape forced himself to stop thinking, forced himself to place both his hands as close to Harry's back as he could get them without touching his skin and started the counter curse. It would heal the burn and dull the pain, but Severus had never been able to find a way to eradicate the excruciation entirely. Harry would undoubtedly suffer. His hands moved languidly, his lips barely parting as he chanted the counter curse like a prayer. If Harry suffered, even for a moment when he woke, Snape would never forgive himself.

And that was something he wasn't sure if he could manage to do anyway, but Harry had made it seem possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually sorry about it now lmao. Thoughts on Harry and Snape? Harry and Charlie? How was their Christmas Eve written?
> 
> And god damn, powerful!Harry for the win.


	35. In Which Snape Cannot Forgive Himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to note that this is forever and always going to be a Harry/Severus endgame story. Charlie is just around to add some extra layers and spark between Snape and Harry, you'll see!
> 
> Your comments are glorious and I'm doing my best to answer them all! Keep it coming, I love tips, ideas, and suggestions. This story is as much for me as it is for you!
> 
> Don't forget, my version of Snape is tall, dark, and handsome, even with his long nose and previously greasy hair.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply, but a specific trigger-warning in this chapter for self-harm. Also, I'm curious. Would anyone like me to **** a line before a triggering paragraph is going to start? or **** before smut scenes? Let me know! But, if it doesn't matter to you, that's fine too!

Harry had been unconscious for days. He'd woken briefly on Christmas day and cried out in terrible pain which caused Poppy to put him in a magically induced coma and spare save him from any further suffering. 

Severus had rarely left his bedside. Minute breaks for more...human matters, yes, but Mrs. Weasley had taken to bringing him meals and Lupin came to provide him company which, shockingly enough, Snape welcomed. They sat in companionable silence, each cared for Harry in their own way. Moments of silence were broken with quiet discussion about the Dark Lord, his next plan, and how violent he'd become after Harry Potter had escaped yet again. Once upon a time, it was unfathomable to Snape, how such an arrogant, untalented child could best the Dark Lord. He had chalked it up to the others around him, the support from the Order, his friends, the people, and the Headmaster. But after having briefly seen Harry in action, he had to take back every single one of his doubts and unsubstantiated comments. 

Harry had been incredible. Reckless and stupid to the point that Severus really had thought about compromising his position just to drag him off by the ear, but his power had surpassed that of Harry's peers and even that of well-trained Death Eater's. The Transparency charm was initial proof of that, it was something that Snape hadn't taught him which meant it was something he had taught himself. A dangerous feat, surely, but a promise of pure talent and power. He had shown thoughtful strategy and a keen eye by picking out Death Eater's and surveying the scene before he had launched himself into it...Severus buried his face in his hands and sighed, "How do you do it, Potter?" He muttered, struck again by the _man's_ unstoppable bravery. Severus knew where it came from. The power, the drive to protect everyone he had left. To keep them from suffering under the same pain he had his entire life. 

Yes, Severus knew that well.

"He is remarkable, isn't he?" Snape's head snapped up and he made eye contact with Lupin who looked admittedly more worse for wear than usual. The full moon had been two days ago, he realized.

"I can't recall when it happened or when I started to recognize the qualities he possesses but...yes, remarkable is one term for it," Snape agreed quietly and conjured a chair for Remus to sit in on Harry's other side. Severus also couldn't recall when his relationship had changed in regard to Remus, only that it had and that neither of them had been as spiteful towards one another since Harry had been hurt like this. Even before, at Christmas Eve they'd been pleasant enough to one another. Perhaps their bond had strengthened through Harry. Severus had pulled back with his werewolf insults and tactless comments simply due to the fact that he knew Harry truly cared about Remus. In the same way that he'd grown and realized that he could not hold a grudge against Harry for his father's mistakes, he could not hold a grudge against Lupin's for any others.

Remus merely nodded and dropped his head against the back of the chair, eyes closed contentedly. "Poppy says she'll wake him tomorrow."

Severus let his eyes flit from Harry to Remus; he was glad to hear this but hesitant to look forward to it. Harry would still be in pain, no doubt, manageable enough but he hated the fact that this was his fault. He'd introduced the spell to the Dark Lord and he hadn't stayed to defend Harry when he needed it--

"You can't punish yourself for this, Snape. Harry has always made his choices despite anything the rest of us had said. He was going to throw himself into battle for the Grangers no matter what. And he would have hated himself if you had been compromised, or killed," the sentiment was not lost on him, but Severus could almost laugh at the fact that he was being consoled by _Messrs Moony,_ of all people.

"He would be the only one not cheering--"

"Still as self-deprecating as ever," Remus muttered.

"Don't presume to know a single thing about me--"

"I know very little. But I know you've come to care about Harry and I know that he cares about you just as much as anyone. I can see it when he's around you. Despite our differences, we're fighting for the same reason and we want to protect the same person. That makes you alright in my book and, frankly, I don't give a damn what you think about me in return," Remus informed him, eyes still closed and voice as calm as ever. 

Severus pursed his lips and said nothing for a moment. He studied Harry and stopped trying to trick his mind into believing he'd seen him stir. It wouldn't be impossible for him to pull himself out of a magically induced coma, extremely difficult, but not impossible. With a sigh, he stood. At the door, he turned back to Lupin, "Would you like a cup of tea?" As close to a peace offering as there would ever be. 

Remus smiled to himself, glad Severus could not see him from where he was standing, "Milk and two sugar cubes." Though Severus could hear the satisfied smugness in Remus's tone, he did not verbalize his annoyance and merely rolled his eyes as he went. 

He was relieved to find the kitchen empty. Any time he had left the room this past week, he had been assaulted with a barrage of questions about Harry's health and well-being. Everyday was the same thing: _'No, there isn't any change,'_ and _'No, you can't see him yet,'_ and ' _Cease with the melodrama, he is not going to die, he will wake when he is ready_.'  It was strange how, now that he did have news to offer them about Harry being woken in the morning, he didn't have a soul in sight to share it with. It was even more so unusual to Snape (and slightly disconcerting), how this tragedy seemed to have made everyone slightly more comfortable around him. Well, _comfortable_ wasn't the right word but they didn't leave or stop speaking anymore when he entered a room. They didn't watch him carefully as he moved throughout the house. They said 'hello' if they passed him on the stairs or in the hall. Hermione had even made him a cup of tea, perfectly, mind you. He _loathed_ it.

But he knew Harry would enjoy it or find some amusement in it and used that thought when he felt the urge to snap and revert to his typically terrifying self.

As both cups of tea soaked, Severus leaned back against the counter and stared ahead at the empty wall, his eyes fixated on a stain that Kreacher had clearly long since given up on removing. He would have to return to the Dark Lord soon. No doubt he was waiting for Severus to show his face with news of the Order. Of how the boy was fairing. He would have to manipulate the situation, say that the attack had devastated them and that he'd been left to oversee Hogwarts while Dumbledore had been distracted tending to Harry himself. He would claim that the Granger's had been tortured so badly that they had been taken to a safe house, armed with healers. Surprisingly enough, the Granger's were resilient people. Intelligent, quick-learners. Like their daughter. But the Dark Lord didn't need to know that. Hopefully, he could throw him off their trail and learn how they had been found. The Dark Lord had had plans to attack the magical village at the base of the mountain--but to have stumbled upon the Grangers? It seemed far too much of a coincidence. Deep in thought, he turned back to the tea and finished making each cup, no sugar for him. 

As he made his way back up the stairs, Severus heard whispering coming from the room that the Dursley's had locked themselves in since the mass of them had arrived. There were less of them now, of course. Bill and Fleur had returned to Shell Cottage, Charlie was in and out--no doubt squatting with degenerates. Fred and George had returned to their joke shop and stopped in nightly to see how Harry was doing. The rest of the Order had returned to normal life for them, popping in and out, much like it had been last year. Snape thought he liked it better when the house was more crowded. The Dursley's were quieter, he could only hear them squirming with nerves. Now, he could hear them speaking. It made him sick.

Hermione had been nominated to leave meals outside their door for the three days it took her parents to recover, thanks to Madam Pomfrey's care and calm nature. After that, being that they could bond over the strange situation they were in, the Grangers and Dursley's shared their meals together for two days. Almost immediately, three meals a day turned into a single meal a day, if that, and Severus had overheard Hermione telling Ron that her parents weren't fond of them. That there was something  _off,_ something  _not quite right_. From that moment on, Severus had grown a lifetime's more respect for the dentists. Good intuition for muggles, it would seem. Not that he would ever admit it.

There had been talk about removing the Dursley's from Grimmauld Place and arrangements were purportedly being made, though not quick enough in Severus's opinion. He had half a mind to show them the door and tell them to figure it out on their own, as Harry had been forced to all those years. It was lucky for Vernon Dursley that Severus had not directly crossed paths with him. As controlled as he was, even Vernon Dursley would not be safe from Snape's wrath. 

When he re-entered Harry's room, he wasn't surprised to see Poppy there checking Harry's vitals; she stopped by a few times a day. He passed Remus his cup and raised an eyebrow in question knowing better than to disturb the healer while she worked.

"Making sure he's ready to wake, the Headmaster wants to speak with him tonight," Remus answered and looked just as displeased by this as Snape felt.

"Absolutely not. I have prior experience with this curse. It's used for torture, to pull information. Another nights rest is hardly enough but still preferable. I'll speak to the Headmaster myself about it if he objects."

Remus nodded in agreement, even Poppy welcomed the words, "Tomorrow then. I agree." Poppy left after that, concern etched into her permanently worrying face and Severus resumed his spot beside Harry. He sipped his tea, letting his eyes close around the warmth, the first decent sensation he'd felt all day. If Remus hadn't spoken, he might've found himself nodding off.

"He seems to have learned immensely from you. The skill he showed during the battle was beyond anything I've ever seen, not just from him--from most of the Order, even," Remus said at long last, his eyes glued to Harry as if he could see the magical power emanating from him in his sleep. Perhaps he could this close after the full moon.

"He picks things up rapidly," Snape said in return, "However, he has been teaching himself more advanced spells on his own time, I believe we've only seen part of Potter's skill."

Remus smiled softly, "Lily and James would have been so proud of him."

"Yes," Snape agreed after a pregnant pause, "They would have been," Both men, exhausted and feeling as if they'd aged seventy years in only seven days, made eye contact with one another and said nothing more. The silence held a certain meaning that neither of them could express. It sounded something like acceptance if silence could have a sound at all. They returned to their personal thoughts not long after and Severus wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, wound into their own thoughts. It wasn't until there was a knock at the door revealing Charlie Weasley that both of them looked up and remembered where they were. Charlie's eyes seemed to flick over Snape with moderate annoyance, which might have made another, less-stoic man smirk.

Severus stiffened, "Yes?"

"Just checking in," Charlie muttered and crossed the room, careful to keep to Remus's side of Harry's bed, "Poppy's waking him tomorrow?"

Snape didn't bother to give him an answer and let Remus handle this one. He was more fond of the Weasley anyway. 

"Kingsley said Harry performed wandless magic," he whispered, and all men looked at Harry's unconscious form in awe, "When he lunged at the Death Eater he'd dropped his wand, Kingsley and I were too far to help him with the other's surrounding us, but...we saw him being strangled," Charlie shook his head and swallowed thickly, "Kingsley made a break for him while I held the others off, but before he'd gotten close enough to _do anything_ , Harry somehow had his wand. Summoned it from meters away. With a violent slash, he cast a curse I'd never seen used before, tore open the bastard's chest. Mad-Eye said the Death Eater he attacked died that night, good-riddance, I say," Charlie said, a pointed barb in Snape's direction, but he said nothing about it and waited for more, "When the Aurors escorted mum and dad to the house for belongings, his body was bled out, left in the snow."

Snape had not heard about any of this, he'd been too consumed healing Harry's curse wound. 

"He mustn't know," Remus and Snape spoke simultaneously and their eyes locked over Harry's body and nodded at one another in agreement, "He'd never forgive himself."

"Even for killing a _Death Eater_?" Charlie asked incredulously, "He should be proud!"

Snape scoffed and didn't even both to look at Weasley, "Which shows how little you truly know about Potter," he said under his breath, a satisfied smirk on his face. Remus eyed him warily across the bed, his own curiosity evident.

"What was that, Snape? If you have something to say--"  

Severus turned and fixed him with a stone cold glare, his lip snarling with distaste, "I have nothing further to say to you, Weasley. If you've come to pilfer the unconscious affections of Harry Potter, you are sadly out of luck," Charlie flushed a shade of crimson, his eyes darting to Remus for some sort of back up, and Severus was pleasantly delighted as Remus held up a hand, as if to request he be left out of it. Charlie left the room without another word. 

Snape knew he shouldn't be so cruel to Charlie. The man did care for Harry, after all. But, Snape was a jealous, possessive fool when it came to Harry Potter, and he would not, _could_ not idly watch as Charlie- _fucking_ -Weasley encroached on his territory. Snape knew that something had happened between them, he could feel the energy when Charlie came around and Harry tensed as if he knew that Snape was watching, always watching, all the time (even when it appeared like he wasn't). Begrudgingly, Severus had to admit that Charlie was a talented member of the Order and a good man--but Harry was  _his_ and that was the final judgment.

When he finally left his thoughts in the back of his mind, he could feel Remus staring at him. Severus had to resist the urge to challenge Remus's stare with a glare of his own. He focused on his tea until he was sure that Remus had looked away. 

Once Molly had appeared to bring them something to eat, Severus realized that it was time for him to visit Malfoy Manor. He had pushed it off for far too long and knew that he would surely be punished for that. He was quelled by the fact that Harry was in good hands with Remus here, Poppy bustling in and out to check on him, and Mrs. Weasley, of course, who seemed to fret constantly over everyone else in order to keep her mind off of Harry. A few hours and he would be back. As he stood, Remus nodded in understanding and said nothing. Lupin had always been quite, but there was something measured and respectful in his silences, something Snape realized he had never bothered to take note of before. Of course, naturally, he and Lupin had never spent more than a few minutes in the same room, and none of those moments involved them being one-on-one.

Snape apparated from the front step of Grimmauld Place, occluding harder than he ever had before

 

 

He woke with a sob-strangled gasp in a dark, foreign room. Panicking, Harry sat up...rather, he tried to, but his entire body screamed at him in resistance. He couldn't remember a single fucking thing! His body felt like it was on fire but his limbs felt stiff, as if they would creak when he bent them. His body felt like he'd been sleeping for weeks but every other part of him was so exhausted he was struggling to breathe. 

_I can't fucking see--_

He started to think angrily, wishing more than anything that they hadn't taken off his fucking glasses, he was useless without his--

Something hit him abruptly in the nose and Harry felt around himself blindly before his hands closed around...his glasses? He felt like he could cry, but not from happiness. Something was  _happening_ to him. He didn't know where he was or what was going on, he didn't know why he was in so much  _pain._  

He forced himself to keep it together and shoved his glasses on. The gesture alone took so much out of him he thought he might faint from exertion, let alone the pain. Once he stilled himself and waited for the moment to pass, Harry let his vision focus on the room around him. It was  _his room_ , his room at Grimmauld Place. While every breath was a struggle, this calmed him.  _Think, Harry--_ he closed his eyes and tried to bring himself to take deep breaths but his throat felt excruciatingly dry and as he opened his mouth to cough around the sandpaper at the back of his throat, he realized that hurt almost worse than everything else.

And that was when he remembered.

It all came flooding back, Christmas Eve, Hermione's parents writhing on the ground, the Death Eater strangling him, and--

 _Sectumsempra_.

He felt his breathing pick up again in a panic, he'd--he knew what he'd done. Whoever that Death Eater had been, they were undoubtedly dead. The curse had been too strong, there had been too much blood. Harry let out another sharp gasp of pain as he tried to push himself up again--this time, he didn't stop trying until he was upright. The skin on his back nearly screamed in resistance, raw, fresh flesh shifted and moved in a way it hadn't in what felt like years, but must have only been a day or so, he figured. Voldemort. Voldemort had been there. He had cast the curse that felt like it was going to shred him into pieces, that made him feel like the skin was being flayed from his body, the bleeding pieces set on fire underneath. Another wave of pain shot through him and Harry leaned over the edge of the bed to wretch, but there was nothing in his stomach and his throat only burned.

_Where is everyone?_

He felt impossibly alone, isolated from the world. He needed to...he had to get out of bed. He needed to see someone, anyone.

_Snape._

It was the thought of Severus, that gave Harry the strength to throw the covers off of him. Quickly, as if he was ripping off a bandaid, Harry threw both of his legs over the side of the bed and bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from crying out. He tested his weight by slowly shifting himself off of the mattress. 

"Need my fucking wand-" he said hoarsley to himself and turned his head to the bedside table where a quick flash of light tipped him off and he reached blindly for the familiar, smooth wood. He felt better having it on him. Despite the fact that it looked like Grimmauld Place...he couldn't be entirely sure. He hadn't seen anyone. All at once, ingenius struck, "Kreacher," he could barely finish the name without choking on the word, but the elf appeared before him with a crack, "The lights--" without a word or warning, the lights in the room turned on all at once, nearly blinding Harry. He hissed in pain and held his arm up over his face, stretching the skin on his side so severely this time he  _was_ able to yelp, just a little bit, "Water," he muttered, and before he could say anything else, Kreacher was already back handing him a glass.

"Will that be all Master Harry needs?" The house elf sounded painfully unpleasant, and Harry dismissed him with a wave of his hand, not even bothering to play at Hermione's kindness to the beast. Harry gulped the glass gratefully, his stomach bloating with as much water as he could fit in it. 

He felt only minutely better after that.

Clutching his wand like a lifeline, Harry forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he reached the door and shoved it open, gripping the door frame as tightly as his weakend fingers would allow him.

 _Tempus_ , Harry thought and the time shimmered from his wand in white font for a brief moment.  _12:30AM.0_

If anyone was awake, they would be in the kitchen. Harry hissed as he took his first step down the stairs, but down hard on his lip for the next one before he took as deep a breath as he could muster, and forced himself to take the stairs at a more normal pace, sure that it would take him hours to reach the bottom if he didn't hurry it along. He managed to make fairly good time, especially considering he missed the sixth step on the final staircase and tumbled the rest of the way down, "Fuck," he snapped at himself, louder than he had been able to manage before.

Movement sounded from behind the kitchen doors and Harry forced himself to his knees so that he didn't look like as much of a pathetic fool as he felt. He tried to push himself to his feet before whoever was on the other side could find him like this. He reached for the banister to help himself and had almost just managed it.

"H-Harry? How--" 

"Remus,  _thank fuck_ ," Harry said, breathing heavily in short, raspy spurts, "What the fuck is wrong with my body?" Remus started forward immediately and helped Harry into the kitchen and sat him gently in a chair at the table.

"Thank Merlin I heard you, I was just about to leave--how are you awake?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I be awake?"

Remus pulled a hand through his hair and flicked his wand, Harry was relieved to see a glass of whiskey in front of him, "Poppy would have my head for this, but it'll help the pain, a bit," Harry nodded in agreement and took a sip. If everyone he knew kept plying him with alcohol every time he thought he was going to die physically or emotionally, he could get used to this, "Harry...Madam Pomfrey put you in a magically induced coma. It's been 9 days since Christmas Eve."

Harry spluttered and choked on his next sip, " _Nine_?" He coughed, wincing at the pain it sent through his chest.

"The curse Voldemort hit you with was obscene. Severus said it's used for torture. He was able to heal the burn but the pain will last for a few more days," Harry closed his eyes at this and felt like he could drop right then and there, "It's supposed to dull as time goes on." 

Harry felt like snorting. Would have, if he wasn't sure it would cause him more pain than it was worth.

"Do you remember anything that happened?"

Harry nodded slowly, "I didn't at first, but..." he shook his head and pressed his glass to his lips, "I know I killed someone."

Remus's face fell and his lips pursed sympathetically, "Yes, Harry, but it was you or him. A choice anyone would have made ten times over."

"I've never killed anyone with my own magic before--" he started to say, quietly, before Remus interjected strongly.

"Harry, you've never killed _anyone_ \--"

"Don't lie to me. My parents? Cedric? Sirius? Dudley? Should I go on, how many others do I have to list before you all start to  _get it_!" He slapped his glass hard against the wooden table, anger flaring through him, matching the burn of whiskey in his chest and the burn that flared throughout the rest of his body all at once. Remus held up his hands as if to surrender.

"Harry. No. Not now. You're going to cause yourself too much pain getting worked up like this--"

He scoffed bitterly in response, "That's nothing new, Remus, and this is nothing in comparison," he muttered, more to himself than to the man in front of him. Pain and anger flashed dangerously across Lupin's face, but neither of them said anything for a moment. Harry's eyes widened in shock when Remus dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders shook with silent sobs, "Remus--I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"You're sorry? You?" Remus laughed then and stood, turning away from the table to hide his face from Harry as the bottle poured their glasses again, "I'm the one that should be sorry, me--all of us, god, Harry. We've all let you down. We were supposed to protect you, to let you be a fucking kid for at least a little while!" Remus's voice had risen, and Harry stupidly found himself almost frightened, "We failed you, all of us," he held the sleeve of his sweater over his mouth to prevent another sob from leaving his lips, "Something horrible has happened to you, Harry. I know it. I can see it. I can feel it in my bones. We were supposed to protect you and instead...everything we've all ever done has  _broken_ you," Remus turned back to face him, and Harry had only seen that look on his face once before, when Sirius had fallen through the veil and he had had to wrap his hands around Harry to stop him from following.

"N-no, Remus, that's not. It's not your fault, I fucked up, I didn't follow their rules, I knew what would happen--I deserved it because of everything I've done. Everything they-- _he_ did to me. I thought...Dumbledore kept sending me there no matter how many times I begged to stay anywhere else over the summer, I deserved it. I just figured no one wanted me." Harry finished quietly, his eyes shining with tears. When he looked up at Remus, what he saw was  _nothing_ like he expected.

There was rage on Remus's face that made Harry draw back further from the table. He looked like he was going to attack, the look on his face was  _murderous,_ the same look that had been on his face just moments before his transformation in third year, " _The Dursley's?_  Vernon Dursley, he--Dumbledore  _knew_?" Harry was confused then, he thought that Remus had been saying that he  _knew_ what had happened to him. That they had failed him because they kept sending him to--oh,  _fuck._ What had he just done? "That fucking cunt."

The words were so malicious and so plainly said that it chilled Harry to the bone. It seemed as if they were more a resolve that gave Remus permission to do what he was about to do next.

Before he could say anything, Lupin was taking off up the stairs, "Remus! No!" Harry shouted. It hurt, fuck it hurt, felt like he was ripping out his vocal chords. His voice cracked and broke, but his yell was loud enough to carry, he hoped. He launched out of his chair, ignoring the aches and pains that shot through him. It slowed his movement, surely, but he was moving quicker than he had earlier. If Remus got to the Dursley's, as angry as he was, there was no telling what he'd do to them.

When Harry reached the landing, the Dursley's door had been blown open, Petunia was sobbing and trying to hide herself while Vernon was screamed profanities. He was shirtless, his hair, sweaty chest too much of a reminder. Harry had to build his armor of steal and keep it together. Vernon was screaming at him next, every insult and disgusting thing he'd ever called Harry was lain out again, only this time Remus heard it. Remus heard Vernon threatening to fuck him bloody, Remus heard Vernon asking if 'the little slut was back for more'. Harry wanted to die. 

Vernon was still screaming as Harry took a step back, for a moment thinking that he should let Remus do whatever it was that he was about to do. Vernon was screaming, Petunia was wailing.

And then, so was Mrs. Black.

The rest of the house began to wake, wands clutched in their hands. Harry, not wanting anyone to hear any of his secrets, shoved himself in front of Remus's wand, eyes begging him to stop as everyone started to realize what was unfolding in front of them. Choruses of 'Harry!' were drowned out by the sight or Remus's wand pointed at Vernon over Harry's shoulder.

"Remus, don't. Please, stop--" Harry pleaded, his voice barely a whisper.

"They deserve to die for what they did to you--"

"No, Remus, it's fine, it's not worth it!"

"Yes it is, Harry! _You_ are worth it!" Remus shouted at him, and Harry knew that Remus wasn't angry at him, but he shrunk away from the screaming, looking smaller than he had felt in a while, "Get Harry out of here, Arthur, I want a private word--"

"A word? About him, that slut? The useless scum who killed our son? He deserved nothing less than what we gave him--he deserves worse than anything I ever did to him. I was only showing the fag-pig what he was in for! He'd be better off dead--" Vernon spat, a hysterical sort of grief and shock coming over him as he spilled far more than Harry had ever thought he would, more than Harry had ever told anyone, aside from Snape. Remus started forward, moving with breakneck speed around Harry, his wand pressed sharply against Vernon's neck, an inch or two of its tip disappeared into Vernon's flesh.

"What did you do to him, tell me again, I'll kill you right here--"

"I told you  _no_!" Harry shouted at Remus then, his voice lacking any and all hoarseness. Remus stumbled backward, away from Vernon until his back was pressed with a bit more force against the nearest wall. Remus was lookin at him incredulously because he certainly hadn't backed off of his own accord, "I don't  _need_ your help now! It's a bit fucking late for that, don't you think? And you think that having him betray my darkest fucking secrets is the way to help me? You're fucking clueless! No wonder I'm so fucked up!" Harry spat venomously and threw his arms in the air, exposing the scars on his wrists briefly as his shirt sleeves shifted. No one else seemed to notice, but Remus's eyes were there immediately, still sharp and laser-focused from the full moon. Harry stalked past him, their shoulders colliding sharply, racking Harry with pain, but he kept walking, relishing in the burn.

He ignored everyone as they called him, brushed Hermione off as she reached for him and took the rest of the stairs, forcing himself to move quickly, allowing the pain to pretend it was the sole cause of his tears. He slammed the door to his bedroom behind him, knocking a picture frame of him and Sirius off the wall, shattering glass across the floor. He hadn't wanted to hurt Remus, he just needed him to  _stop_. He hadn't meant what he said--and it wasn't anyone's fault but his  _own._ He just didn't want Vernon to say anything else, to destroy him like that. He grabbed the nearest chair and shoved it under the door, keeping anyone from coming in unless they wanted to blast the door open.

Harry's heart was racing, aching in his chest. His lungs were working overtime and he found it impossible to catch his breath. His entire body was trembling, he could hear them all whispering a floor below him. It was all too  _much._ Harry dropped to the floor and curled his legs under him, he rested his elbows on either knee and dropped his face in his hands. Why couldn't anyone ever just  _leave it alone_ _?_

Harry felt like a fucking child as fat, wet tears fell from his eyes and landed almost inaudibly against the wood floor. His shoulders heaved as he cried and his chest heaved too, even after he'd stopped. He swallowed thickly and used his sleeve to wipe off his face. He put his hands behind him and looked up at the ceiling, unsure what answers he was looking for until his hands wrapped around something sharp and cold and he remembered with a jolt that the only photo he had of him and Sirius had shattered.

 _How symbolic_.

He gnawed at his bottom lip. Knew with everything he had that he  _shouldn't_ do this. That Snape had given him rules. That he was  _really trying_ to get better. And he'd briefly been doing better. He was  _already_ in so much pain, pain that Voldemort had caused him--

\--and that was just it. Someone  _else_ was always causing him pain. 

Harry pulled the sharpest edge of the glass over his arm just below his elbow, hard enough to split skin and draw blood immediately. He hissed as it happened, closed his eyes and bit his lip hard enough to draw more blood before he did it again. His breathing began to slow, the heaving of his chest became less pronounced. Only his hands were shaking now as he drew another deep line across his forearm, and another--

\--but the more he did, the worse he felt. It began to have the completely opposite effect. There was guilt and there was shame, he was pathetic for breaking so easily. His breathing started to pick up again and he felt his eyes well up with tears.

 _So fucking useless_. Harry berated himself bitterly,  _He was right, Vernon was right._

He deserved it. 

_I'd be better off dead._

He pressed the glass to his wrist again and pulled it across in one swift motion, a little too deep, a little too desperate. The wound was not like the others. He felt like it had a purpose. He tried again on his left wrist next with much the same results, and it might have been the general numbness caused by his previous cuts or the aftershock of the curse Voldemort had hit him with, but he pushed just a little bit more during the next one. He wasn't trying to kill himself, but if he were to fall asleep and not wake up after this...he really thought that it would be okay.

Harry forced himself to his feet. He begged for darkness and the lights shut off on their own accord. He cradled his arms to his chest and climbed under his bedclothes. He didn't think this would kill him, but if it did...he felt guilty for not saying goodbye.

He tucked his arms tighter to his chest, doing his best not to bleed all over everything, and pulled his knees tight to his chest as well in order to become the smallest ball he could. He closed his eyes and prayed that it would be as simple and painless as falling asleep. He begged everything out there to help his friends and all the people he loved to make it through the war without him. He knew they would.

There was a knock at the door and a quiet voice, "Harry, it's Hermione--please, open up."

Harry bit his lip to keep his sobs quiet. Hermione sounded so desperate, so sad. He held himself closer and closed his eyes tighter, tears leaking from the corners, "P-please, Hermione. I can't, I need to be alone, let me go," he had tried to steady his voice, but he couldn't manage it. It hurt, everything hurt. It hurt more than it ever had before. The world felt like it was caving in on him. He thought he might have lied to himself before. 

He realized now that he was sure he wanted to die. He knew they would live if he died. He wouldn't be around to hurt anyone else anymore.

"Harry, no, open the door, you're scaring me!"

"Harry, mate? It's just us, c'mon, let us help you!" It was Ron's voice, and Harry clenched his teeth and buried his face in his pillow, letting out a sob he prayed would be silent.

"Harry? What are you doing in there? Open the door!" Hermione urged, her voice spiked with anger and she smacked the door with her palm, "Harry!"

The door handle jiggled, but the chair in place held steady and the door didn't budge. He hardly heard the loud thud as Ron threw his shoulder against the door. Light broke in for a moment, but Harry put an end to that as quickly as it had happened, sealing the door with every spell that crossed his mind, "Fuck  _OFF_ , let me go! I don't want to do this anymore, I  _can't--_ " he couldn't finish because a sob fell from his lips.

Hermione sounded hysterical as she shouted at him, and Harry vaguely heard her screaming for help, vaguely heard chaos from floors below.

 _No, no, no,_  He thought as desperately as possible, he didn't want anyone here, they couldn't see him like this. His hand was clenched tight around the shard of glass, cutting into his skin in all the wrong places. 

"Get back, every one of you."

Harry knew that voice. 

It was the only person he wanted to see, but that last person he wanted to see him like this. It sounded like an explosion, but the door only splintered, "Potter, open this door," it was Snape, ever snape. Venomous and threatening and entirely too good to him, "Please, Harry," Snape was whispering then, and Harry was certain that he was pressed against the door close enough that no one else would be able to hear him. 

"I can't," he answered back, his voice cracking painfully under the realization of what he'd done. 

"It's just me, let me in."

"I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"They'll go then--they're gone. I've sent them downstairs."

"You're lying--"

"I would never lie to you, Harry. Come on, I'll get you out of here."

At the prospect of leaving, of getting away from all of them, Harry sobbed even harder. He didn't deserve any of them, he needed to get out of here so they wouldn't worry about him anymore. The chair fell from the door and he let go of his magic, allowing the door to fall open on it's own accord. Snape hadn't been lying when he'd said that it was just him, but Harry still couldn't find it in himself to face him, he tried to hold himself tighter, tried to disappear--only Snape had pulled the covers off of him and was reaching to roll him over, "Please, don't," Harry begged while everything ached. Severus's hands moved gingerly, but they were pointed. They took hold of either of his hands and pulled them from his body, "No--"

As soon as Severus saw the mess that Harry had been hiding, he released him immediately and his resolve faltered, "What did you  _do_ , Harry--why would you--" Severus found that he couldn't finish his words. His voice had cracked under the strain of trying to keep it together. Harry pulled away from him again and tried to move himself to the other side of the mattress, but Snape grabbed him firmly and held him in place, "I have to heal these before--"

"No, no! Just let me go, I can't do this anymore!" Harry shouted at him and struggled fiercely against the hold that Snape had on his hands. He kept fighting until Snape released him. Before he could move any further, he found that he couldn't move at all. Snape had petrified him. 

Severus had no qualms about it, as he used his wand to knit together Harry's deepest wounds, the ones that would have surely bled him to death by morning. Once those had closed, he cast a more simple healing charm on the others until the scar left behind looked as if it had been there for years. It was the best he could do under the circumstances, "I'm taking you to Hogwarts and we're going to tell Dumbledore what's going on, together," panic would have erupted on Harry's face if he could control it. By the tone of Snape's voice, Harry knew that they would be telling Dumbledore about what he'd suffered at his Aunt and Uncle's all these years. Snape lifted the hex and stood in front of Harry, not a single drop of emotion on his face.

"I'm not going. I won't--"

"You have no choice, Potter. You're still a child, clearly." Harry couldn't remember the last time that Snape's voice had been so harsh and cold. No, that was a lie. The last time he'd heard this, he'd been in his fifth year, and Snape had been yanking Harry out of the pensieve.

"Fuck you," Harry spat harshly, his anger exploding out of him with a loud bang, sharp and surprising enough that Snape had gripped his wand tighter, ready to curse whatever showed itself. Harry laughed bitterly then and forced himself out of bed, his entire body lit with pain, "A child you want to  _fuck_ , right? It's funny how, one second, you can suck my cock and make me cum, and the next second you act like I'm incapable of  _anything_ ," Harry hissed venomously, wanting to hurt Snape as bad as he was hurting right now. 

Snape glared at him, his eyes so harsh and dark with pain that Harry felt like he was shrinking under the man's gaze, "You can walk out with me or I'll petrify you again and you can explain to everyone why I had to," Snape twitched his wand, and Harry knew he meant it.

It took them long enough to get down the stairs, Harry tried to internalize the pain that coursed through his body, but it was clear with every step he was struggling. There were few people in the kitchen, Remus, Ron, and Hermione, namely, but he could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley watching him from the corner. He couldn't look any of them in the eye. He heard Hermione sob into Ron's chest as he walked past them without a second glance. He shut his eyes tight around the tears that threatened to spill forward. He couldn't look at Remus, who looked so brutally and painfully depressed that _no one_  had been able to look at him.

"Harry, I'm so sorry--" Remus blurted and buried his face in his hands, unable to go on. Harry felt his heart break, a sob built in his chest. He grabbed the back of a chair to stabilize himself as a sharper wave of pain coursed through him and he couldn't help but gasp, "I only wanted to protect you from everything, I failed, I--"

"No! No, Remus, you didn't! I...I pushed you all away, I--I'm s-so sorr--" a sob escaped his throat and he felt his knees give out. It was all too much. There was too much pain, too much emotion in the room. He could feel every ounce of it. He expected to hit the floor hard and he braced himself for knee-body-burn shattering pain--

But Remus was there instantly and held him up, arms protective and guarding, laden with warmth and love and everything else he struggled to say. Holding all his broken pieces together. Remus wrapped his arms tightly around Harry, and Harry hugged him back, desperate to convey his apology in any way that he could.

"We love you, Harry, don't forget it," Hermione sobbed after him, as Severus threw powder into the floo and wrapped his arms around Harry so they could go together.

For the first time in his entire life, Harry did not fall or stumble clumsily out of a fireplace. Snape held him tight and they walked out together. They were not at Hogwarts, he could tell that much immediately. They were in Spinner's End.

"Let's just go to bed, Harry, enough with everything else," Snape said quietly as he led him to the bedroom, "We can deal with it all in the morning."

 

The pair of them collapsed into bed together, arms encircling one another. Snape didn't say a word about the fact that they were still in their day clothes and didn't bother folding his cloak as he cast it to the floor. Harry buried his face in Snape's chest, grateful that the other had pulled him closer. Neither of them said a word while Harry sobbed. Neither of them needed to say a word as Snape pressed his lips to Harry's temple and held him close. 

Things were going to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be totally honest. My vision for this chapter about six hours ago was completely different. .....But then I drank some red wine, and ya'll know what that does.
> 
> So...this chapter was a bit of a left curve for me. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I might have to erase it and re-do it TBH. I'm going to take a while so I can get some feedback before I go ahead and get into another chapter. I mean, unless youse all think that this is a good turn or an interesting point for the story, I'll continue with this thread, but I need to know! Give me feedback, most importantly, on this total breakdown of Harry's. I know he's had quite a few but, I feel like this one is more severe? Do you agree? Was it necessary? If not, what IS necessary? Help me out ya'll. I'm winging all this, for the most part.


	36. In Which Something's Gotta Give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimers apply guys! Let me know what you think, I hope all of you are enjoying :)

Harry woke the next morning, his body still ached desperately. He felt just as awful as he had the day before. It made him feel weak, like the petulant child Snape always insisted he still was. He raised his hands to his face and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and willed the sudden sting of tears to disappear, "Get over it, Potter," he muttered harshly to himself before he angrily thrashed against the bed, both hands beating the mattress futilely. 

"Having a tantrum, are we?" Severus asked from the doorway, and Harry looked up to see him leaning casually against the door frame, eyebrow raised and lip curled. He flushed and didn't say anything. Instead, he rolled into his side and pulled the duvet over him, hoping Snape would go away. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to believe that the man actually would, but a boy could dream, right? Snape sighed, and Harry tensed as he heard him cross the room and felt his weight at the foot of the bed, "I spent the morning speaking to the Headmaster. I didn't go over specifics but he knows you're here and he knows _why_."

Harry felt like he was seeing red. Anger coursed through him, hot and visceral, "You had _no right_ ," he said lowly, a menacing tone that even Snape could have been proud of.

Only, Snape was the master of menacing, " _I_ had no right? _I_ , who save your life last night for the _umpteenth_ time? _I_ , who have broken and devastated all my morals and shattered my conscience so that we could be together?" Snape snorted, "You _are_ a daft little fucker sometimes," it was so normal, so lacking of emotion and in such typical Snape fashion that Harry was taken aback.

"Daft little fucker..." he repeated back to Snape, as if trying to show the man what he'd just said. Harry turned his head and they made eye contact--what surprised him was the gleam of amusement in Snape's eyes, "Oh, you think you're--" Harry stuttered over the right words, "--verbal...abuse is funny, do you?" He felt so irrationally, uselessly angry. Even more so as Snape reached out and put a gentle hand on Harry's thigh with an almost condescending pat. And then, Snape laughed.

And so did Harry.

It was so out of place and inappropriate, but neither of them was able to stop. At long last, Harry sighed and nursed the stitch in his side. Slowly, he sat up, grateful for Snape's guiding hands. After a sobering pause, Harry spoke, "I'm a mess."

Severus pursed his lips and nodded slowly, "Yes."

"I need a lot of help."

"It is _imperatively_ so."

"But you still want me."

"More than ever," Snape agreed.

Harry put his face in his hands, his shoulders rose and fell heavily, each breath seemed to stabilize him a little more than the previous one, "I don't really know how to do this. Get...better, and all. I don't know where to start."

"I believe Dumbledore and I came up with a...solution," Harry held his breath while he waited for Severus to inform him on what, exactly, this plan was, "You know the Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage?" Harry nodded slowly, impossibly confused as to where this was going, "She was an extremely successful therapist before she decided to teach. She see's a number of students, in fact--" ah. Now Harry could see where this was going.

"Therapy?" He repeated dryly, embracing his walls as they started to build up around him again with the intense urge to push everyone away, "There's no way."

"It is, in fact, the only option. That, or an inpatient stay at St. Mungo's. Your choice." 

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Not much of a choice there," he muttered, "I guess I'll try the therapy then," he begrudged and Severus almost smiled. That had gone easier than he had thought it would. Harry took a deep, rattling breath and closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, "What time is it?"

"Three in the afternoon, Madam Pomfrey said you would be sleeping more than usual, being that you managed to wake yourself from a magically induced coma," Severus paused for a moment before he slid off his shoes and climbed into bed next to Harry, "You've been casting spells without your wand, Harry. Do you recognize the power that takes?" It was something Snape himself could not do without the maximum effort, and even with practice his wand still occasionally only moved a few inches when he stood across the room. 

"I don't even know how I'm doing it. Last year when the Dementors attacked in Little Whinging...I had dropped my wand and we couldn't see a thing--all I remember thinking was that I needed to find it, I needed light and...then there it was, lighting up the alley," Harry swallowed thickly and his eyes flicked briefly to Snape, "And at the Burrow I was just desperate--"

"I think you've been feeling desperate for an extremely extensive amount of time, Harry. We've theorized that the level of distress you've been under has given you the ability to access your magic to its full capability--something a majority of wizards don't even know is possible," Snape was watching him closely as he absorbed the information, trying to ensure that he wasn't overwhelming Harry, "You don't have proper control over it, yet. So, it can be dangerous. But if we work on it, I do believe you will become unstoppable."

Harry's jaw dropped, it was the most insane thing he'd ever heard. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true, but still. It was dramatically unexpected, "I hardly think--"

"Yes, _this_ we know to be true," Severus said dryly which caused both of them to smile. There was a moments silence between them and Snape took that moment to get comfortable, he shifted until he was sitting, his back pressed against the back of the bed and reached gingerly to pull Harry into his arms, "Turn the lights off."

"But--"

"Without your wand, focus on it--just see if you can manage it," Severus urged him softly, his angular fingers pulled gently through Harry's hair, teasing his scalp here and there until Harry was lulled into a warm sense of security. 

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wincing as a ripple of pain coursed through him. Severus gripped his arm tightly in order to secure Harry against his chest. As the burn subsided, Harry focused on darkness instead of light. He focused on trying to find Severus's face in the dark until, once he opened his eyes again, he had to do just that. 

"Unbelievable," Snape breathed, looking down at Harry through sudden darkness. Severus's breath hitched as Harry moved gingerly under his arm, shifting until Harry was on top of him, straddling his waist, "What _are_ you doing, Potter?" He purred, a delicate rumble in his throat as his prick twitched delightfully underneath Harry's pressure.

"I need a distraction," He murmured against Snape's neck, and Severus knew what he meant as his hands slipped under Harry's t-shirt and felt the heat radiating sharply from where he'd been cursed. Severus's hands were delectably cool and Harry groaned softly, the vibration against Severus's neck was angelic and his hands acted of their own accord as they palmed Harry's backside and ground their hips closer together, "Yes--" Harry hissed and closed his teeth sharply around the tiny tremors vibrating along Snape's throat. There was something rough and animalistic about it, something dark and horribly demanding that had Severus wondering briefly if he should stop this.

The thought immediately dispersed as Harry's lips crashed down violently against Snape's own, a mix of tongue and mouth and teeth so hungry that Snape couldn't think of anything after that unless it involved the throbbing of their cocks together, wanting nothing more than to break through tedious layers of useless fabric, "Touch me--" Harry begged with a roll of his hips, sending them both into a short lived moment of ecstasy.

"Take off your clothes," Severus instructed with a scandalous smirk barely visible through the darkness. Harry immediately reach to tear his shirt off us his head but Severus restrained his wrists and raised and eyebrow. Harry knew what he wanted. He wasn't able to get everything off at once, but his shirt vanished, and his pants were already worked halfway down his hips.

The display of magical prowess aroused Snape to no end, and he had Harry naked on top of him without missing a beat. Harry took it upon himself to rid Severus of his pants as the other removed his cloak, leaving him in a button up and painfully exposing briefs. Harry ground his hips forward, his bare cock meeting Severus's sheathed prick needily. They moved their hips together for a few satisfying ruts and Severus pulled Harry's lips to his own with a forceful hand at the back of his neck. Harry didn't even realize what was happening until Snape flipped him onto his back with the ease of a man skilled in bed. Harry groaned as Severus trailed teasing kissed down his chest. 

"Stop your whinging," Severus commanded, a playful tilt to his voice before his teeth closed gently around Harry's nipple and his tongue played back and forth across his. The gesture rose Harry's hips and he bucked into Severus desperately. Snape responded by wrapping a tight hand around Harry's cock and pumped tantalizingly slow.

Harry let out a soft cry of pleasure and he thrust forward, trying to speed Snape's hand but only managed to cause the man to chuckle, his breath a warm purr against Harry's navel (which made Harry's need even worse).

"Tell me what you want."

"You--" Harry cried out, unable to take Severus's torture any longer as the hand around his cock had stop moving completely and rested against the root, "Please, you, I need you--" Harry urged, all but writhing for Snape to fuck him rough and hard, "I don't fucking care, Snape--" he hissed sharply as Severus looked like he might protest. Before Snape could say anything further, Harry sat up and grabbed the man by the collar of his shit with such unknown strength that Severus was caught off guard and allowed himself to be pulled on top of Harry, throat-neck-collarbone-jaw all being ravaged by hungry lips, sharp teeth, and a delightfully wet tongue, repairing the minor pinches left behind.

They panted breathlessly against one another's lips, and Harry cried out as he felt Severus's naked prick throbbing against his own. Harry pushed his legs apart further, feeling incredibly sly as Severus unknowingly settled between them. Harry thrust his hips upward and squirmed under the pressure of Snape's taut and toned frame. He reached between them and grabbed Snape's cock with his hand, revelled in the way Snape growled his approval, and then pressed the tip of Snape's intensely hard cock against the tiny pink rosebud between his cheeks. It was instantly slick, and Harry didn't realize that he'd managed to cast a charm for it--neither did Snape, it seemed, as he writhed and moaned and allowed Harry to massage himself with the tip of Snape's cock.

When Harry was sure he'd lulled Snape into a sense of brimming pleasure and security, Harry pressed his hips forward, the tiny bud of his anus opening for Snape's massive intrusion. Harry let out a cry of both pain and pleasure. He wanted it to hurt, he wanted Snape to pound him so hard into the mattress that he wouldn't be able to sit properly for a week, he wanted to feel Snape's cock as he walked. With one last thrust of his hips, Snape's cock had only just sheathed itself in Harry's ass, the head a proud mushroom of cum-leaking glory caused Harry to cry out painfully, a white hot heat coursed through him and he clawed at Severus's back for more, his mouth parted with a moan and his eyes rolled back with absolute pleasure--

Snape was gone so suddenly, Harry didn't have time to adjust, "What are you doing, Potter, I told you, my _one_ rule!" He was livid, as livid as Harry had ever seen him, cock bouncing sharply between his legs, heavy with the weight of his arousal, "You knew what you were doing, you--" Snape looked almost...betrayed, "I told you my limits and you disregarded them entirely."

Snape was right, after all. He hadn't been lost in the heat of passion, that hadn't been a little slip or mistake, no. Harry had manipulated Snape between his legs and lured him into a false state of arousal to throw him off guard.

"Why don't you want me?" Harry asked, his voice so meek and pathetic that he nearly drowned himself under the covers but he willed himself up and was on his knees at the end of the bed, "Is it...is it because of _Him_? Because _he_ ruined me and I'm just his pathetic whore?" Harry's voice rose an octave and cracked under Snape's intense stare.

Severus's face changed after that, immediately dejected and free of anger. He had the audacity to laugh as he crossed the room and reached for Harry's cheeks, " _Stupid_ boy, no," Severus hissed and kissed Harry hard with what seemed like a laden apology of reassurance, "Of course I want you, look at me?" And Harry, unabashed, looked down at Severus's cock, hard and twitching with the recent denial of release, "You feel how hard my cock gets, pressing against you--even just looking at you like this, I could cum so hard it wouldn't make a difference where my cock is," Severus hissed in his ear next and trapped Harry's lobe with a nibble that sent waves pulsing through him, "I want to fuck you more than I've ever wanted bury my cock in anyone before, Harry. But this, you are important to me. And it's far more important for me to wait until you're of age...it might seem futile to you, but until you're a man grown-- _legally_ ," Snape added hastily as Harry seemed like he might raise an objection to his terminology, "I won't sleep with you. I ask you now, and for the final time to respect that--because gods know next time your try something like this, I _will_ fuck you," It came off almost like a warning. If it was supposed to put Harry off, it had the opposite effect, as Harry's cock hardened fully again and they both pressed into the brief pressure that came from one tip to another, "In that _one_ moment, the restraint I was forced to exercise by pulling out of you--" Severus closed his eyes and shuddered at the pleasurable thought alone, "Next time I won't be able to and I'm sure it is beyond any of our imaginations how _unbelievable_ it would feel for both of us if I could bury my cock inside you, but I'd never forgive myself. I'd feel far too much like _Him,_ like I was taking advantage--and while it may seem a ridiculous thought to you after everything, my reasons are _my reasons alone_. You don't have to agree, you just have to respect me enough not to trick my cock into your ass again, are we understood?" As serious and heartfelt as Snape's speech had been, Harry found that it causing him to become so impossibly aroused that he might spill his seed at the slightest touch. He reached for Severus's hips and pulled him close again, only Severus resisted with a raised eyebrow, "I asked you a question. _Are_. _We_. _Understood_?"

"Yes, fine, never again--six and a half months, _whatever_ \--" Harry whinged and pulled for Snape again who obliged him this time. With easy strength, Severus was able to lift Harry and lay him back against the bed. 

"Until then," Severus purred and ravaged every inch of Harry's neck, chest, and the sensitive spots around his hips with his lips, tongue, and teeth, "Turn over," Snape instructed, his hands trailing goosepimples over Harry's naked skin as the boy shifted underneath him, body ripe with excitement as Snape's lips found purchase under his angular shoulder blades and against every recovered lash and scar. Harry's breath hitched as Severus's lips pressed his mouth against the dimples just above Harry's rump. He shivered as Severus palmed both taut, pale globes and spread him just slightly.

"Wh-what are y--oh!" Harry cried out, unable to finish his inquiry as Severus was doing something so pleasurable with his tongue that Harry would much rather moan and wiggle his approval against the man's probing mouth. "Ah--" Harry cried his hands twisting against the sheets unable to clench his hands for long as pleasure made his entire body loose and languid, his toes curled against the mattress. Severus continued to tongue the area around Harry's tight, shiny pink bud. He wrapped his hand around Harry cock from behind and coaxed it forward until it was taut between his legs. The sounds that came from Harry then, muffled against the pillow, were so glorious and rewarding that Snape nearly spent himself right then and there. But no, he hadn't finished pleasuring Harry quite yet, hadn't finished proving to the boy that he  _wanted_ him so badly it drove him utterly insane.

His tongued lapped against Harry's sac as it pulled tight with pent up pleasure and impending release. Harry moaned again, completely and utterly lost in his pleasure as Snape's tongue returned its focus to the fat, wet puckered flesh between Harry's tight ass and probed, the tip of his tongue slipped just briefly inside, electrifying the tiny nub of pleasures nerves. Snape buried his face further, jerking Harry's cock in a steady motion, refusing to give in to Harry's begging-- _faster, harder, more!_ \-- he'd much rather watch Harry cum harder and longer from built up eroticsy. He hummed contentedly against Harry and, with one final plunge of his tongue into the delicious, forbidden dark, Harry cried out and thrust his ass further against Snape, who welcomed it and held him there by his shaking hips until every last drop was slick and wet in Snape's hand. Exhausted and barely able to catch his breath, Harry dropped back against the bed and whinged for Snape to get closer so he could wrap wanton lips around the man's monstrously sized, throbbing cock. It took only a few bobs of Harry's head and his fingernails scraping over Snape's ass and thighs before he too, was cumming hard between Harry's lips.

They collapsed next to one another, limbs secured together, lips kissed and nibbled the closest bits of bare, flushed skin. Neither of them said another word for hours, pleased to lay as they were.

 

 

When Harry woke again some time later, he was utterly disappointed to find himself naked and alone. Being naked with Severus still next to him would have been an entirely different story. While he'd been sleeping, it seemed Severus had tucked him into bed, cleaned, and folded their clothing where it had been carelessly strewn. The gesture was so normal and familiar that Harry felt immediately comforted. Inspired by this sudden warmth, Harry launched out of bed, only to crumble with a cry of pain and a head rush powerful enough to make him nauseous, "Bugger," he muttered to himself and gingerly regained his footing--not before Severus burst into the room, wand drawn. 

Harry couldn't help but notice the way Severus's slacks fell lose over his hips without a belt or briefs underneath, the tiny trail of hair that hid beneath his waistband and the 'V-shape' his muscles created had Harry hot and bothered again, "Can't you ever fucking cover yourself?" Harry muttered, only slightly embarrassed.

Severus snorted and raised an eyebrow, "Says Mr. Cock-Half-Hard Potter," he turned from the room at this and left Harry to stew over a quirky response. When he didn't find one, he pulled a shirts from Snape's closet and buttoned it around himself, "Oh, yes, _much_ better," Snape rolled his eyes over his shoulder and turned back to the stove where he was cooking something that made Harry's mouth water, "Do you own any clothes of your own or are you dubiously intent on soiling all of mine?" Something in the tone of his voice alerted Harry to the realization that Severus didn't truly mind, not at all, it seemed, as his own trousers appeared tight at the sight of Harry in a too large shit, cock dangling imperviously low, casually exposing itself under the hem of Snape's shirt here and there.

This, Severus certainly did not mind.

"Whatever you're making smells incredible," Harry admitted, the sudden rumble that came from his stomach surprised even him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, forget a proper meal. He wanted to take the words back now, as he was sure Severus would push him to a plateful of unmanageable, delicious food that he simply could not stomach. Literally and figuratively. He wanted it, fuck, he wanted to eat the entire pot-fulls cooking simultaneously on the stove. Longed for something more flavorful than the fucking potions that had been shoved down his throat the past few days. Or the water he'd drank that had left his mouth dry, stale, and ultimately unsatisfied.

"I asked Mrs. Weasley what your favorite meal was," Snape offered up, not giving Harry much more than that.

"You--really? You asked Mrs. Weasley...for me?" Harry was incredulous. He knew Severus was making minor attempts to avoid being as menacing and stand-offish to the people he care about most in his life, but...it still caught him off-guard, and he was struck with an immeasurable amount of warmth and gratitude for the both of them.

"Seeing as you would pretend not to like all the food in the entirety of the world, yes. I asked so I would know what to cook you. She provided all the recipes," Snape added casually, but something in his tone was smug. And Harry understood why immediately--

"You, you, of all people were able to get Molly Weasley to divulge secret recipes that have been passed down through the Prewett and Weasley families since...forever?" Harry stood, his jaw dropped at the wonder of it all. Molly had always sworn that she would never give a recipe to anyone, not until she was too old to cook and would need the brood of them to look after her, "Her recipes are sacred to her--"

"Ah, that they are, Potter," Snape said slowly and Harry waited because he knew there was something more he had to say, "As sacred to her as you are to all of us."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He felt a uncouth amount of tears stinging his eyes. His palms felt numb as his fingernails cut into them, struck by so many different emotions at once that he didn't want to feel them all, didn't know how to feel them all after numbing himself for so long. He felt his chest heaving with panic, like he might explode, like it all might spring forth from him at any moment, dangerous and uncontrollable. He opened his mouth to tell Snape to stop, to tell Snape he didn't fucking want it, fuck the food, fuck their cooking and their...sacred concern--

"Come here a moment, Harry," Snape urged, oblivious to the turmoil unfolding behind him. Because he didn't have any idea of what to do otherwise, Harry stepped forward and met Snape at the stove, "Try this," And Snape held a meager spoonful of creamy broth up to his lips. Harry felt embarrassed by the sting of tears in his eyes, relieved that Snape ignored them, and wrapped his lips lights around the wooden spoon for a taste, "I added a little more salt, I know you prefer your food that way," he said casually, not a hint of...well, anything in his tone. He merely wanted to make sure Harry enjoyed it, and Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd been treated like this. 

As Snape turned away again, Harry put the back of his hand to his mouth and quieted a sob that threatened to tear from his throat. Instead of running for the bathroom, he turned back to Snape and wrapped his arms around the man's waist tightly, afraid he might disappear if he didn't, "It's perfect."

And it was, gods above, Merlin, Circe--whatever one he was supposed to thank or worship for this moment, this unadulterated moment of love and support, so casual that it would have meant nothing to anyone else...

It was perfect.


	37. In Which the Break Up is Unexpectedly Expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! How is it going so far???? Is the smut okay or is it stupid and not doing anything for anyone in the story???? What, if any, involvement would you like to see Malfoy have in the future? 
> 
> The reviews and everything have been incredible as always, thank you all so much.
> 
> Happy fucking reading y'all!

With a week left of the holiday, Harry and Snape had transitioned back to the castle. Both of them were in strangely high spirits, even the Portrait of the Fat Lady noticed it as he entered to unpack his things. ( _"Who put pepperup in your pumpkin juice this morning?"_ )

Harry chalked it up to the fact that he and Severus had spent most of their time this past week in bed together, naked, touching and pleasuring one another until they spent themselves. Again. And again. It was getting harder and harder for both of them to resist the urge to fuck wildly. Harry had begged for Snape's cock, whinged for the man to sheathe himself and buck into Harry's prostate until he was seeing pleasure stars but, alas, Severus would not, no matter how close he came to giving in, he always stopped himself with fierce eyes that seemed to set Harry's entire body on fire. In those moments he had to create space between them, and even that in itself was enough to make Harry want to come. He trusted Snape utterly and completely, more so when the man was overcome with carnal urge and still forced himself to stay away.

They had explored one another entirely, Severus compromised with Harry by entering him with a single finger, tortured Harry by finger-fucking his prostate and refusing to touch him in any other way until Harry came violently, harder than he ever had before, so hard that his body shook with please for nearly an hour, so sensitive to the touch that he nearly came every time Snape gently brushed his fingertips along his bare-skin

Severus too found himself in an unsightly good mood as he pressed his thumb to his lips while sitting at the desk in his study, pretending Harry was perched on the edge, saying something snarky and--

 _Merlin fuck_ , Snape thought to himself and ran his hands through his hair, soft and silky--Harry had complimented it the other day and told him it looked "sexier" like this. He found he was happy to keep it this way if Potter liked it...and promised to run his nails through it, pull him closer as they kissed, and--

_He's ruined me. He's absolutely ruined me._

Severus couldn't stop smiling about it. And it wasn't just the pleasure, it was the  _last_ thing on his mind when Harry Potter came up. Well, that wasn't entirely true, but when Snape thought of Harry he thought of so much more than what they'd done together. He thought of the man he'd become. He thought of the way Potter seemed able to verbally spar with him. The way that Potter seemed able to shock him with every turn of conversation, the way Snape had long since stopped trying to predict what emotion Harry might pull from him in any given moment.

He'd learned more about Harry Potter in a few weeks than he'd learned in years.

For one thing, Harry was a phenomenal cook when Snape wasn't looking and he was allowed to improvise. For another, he dedicated his heart and soul to everything he did, be it removing the garden of every single weed and imperfection, or expressing some sort of angry thought over coffee and the Daily Prophet in the morning. Severus had learned that Harry couldn't stomach small, enclosed places, that Harry felt trapped and would claw his way out with his bare hands if he could. He learned that, on Harry's darker days, he needed to be handled roughly in order to feel anything at all. So rough, in fact, that Severus had had to stop Harry on multiple occasions and hold him tight in his arms to keep the horrors in his mind at bay. He'd learned that Harry liked his tea with milk and the tiniest bit of sugar, almost undetectable to Snape himself who preferred his tea black and bitter, or loaded with sweets. He learned that there were certain foods that made Harry sick. For instance, the boy blanched at toast and had angrily thrown his plate across the room one morning when Snape had tried to push him to eat it.

He'd learned that the Dursley's had burnt toast to blackened charcoal and left it in the trash for Harry to scavenge. That, on one occasion, they'd thrown away perfectly toasted pieces, only to have poured bleach all over them so that Harry spent days wretching blood without medical attention. He had seen memories of Harry's bedroom door unlocked, a brief moment where the boy had thought he had an opportunity to escape, only to watch him be shoved down the stairs and raped at the bottom while the wench and her pathetic pig son weren't home.

He'd learned that Harry struggled to say what he really felt or meant, even when it was obvious. He realized that Harry preferred to be alone at certain hours, tucked into a corner with a thick knit blanket and a book he never opened, lost in thought. He had learned every nightmare through legilimency. Had betrayed Harry by sneaking into his mind when the barriers were weakest and utterly disturbed. He learned that Harry was allergic to nuts, and that the Dursley's had enjoyed giving him lavish meals laced with them. He learned that they had made him kneel on grits and glass for hours on end until he was able to adequately express how "pathetic and useless" he was.

He learned that Harry had believed every word. He knew now, even, that Harry still did. Harry ignored compliments or lost his temper when they came around. He avoided them with a countered compliment of his own, or he rebutted every single one he got. He learned that Harry desperately tried to tame and smooth his hair, that he tried to stick it in place enough to cover his scar. He learned that Harry was blind as a bat, even with his glasses, since they hadn't been renewed since he was eleven years old. He learned that Harry hid his most prized possessions under a floorboard he'd pried open with his fingernails until they'd bled.

He learned that Harry was witty and sarcastic, with a dry brash sense of humor it even rivaled Snape's own. Harry loved classical literature and had tried his own hand at writing prose reminiscent of the Beats Generation. Harry took tender care of Chester and Hedwig, had even managed to feed the wild rabbits that snuck into the garden and were lured close enough to trust the mystical boy with green eyes that burnt like cursed fire.

Severus learned that Harry's secrets stretched so much further than anyone in the entire world could have imagined. He realized these secrets were key to his survival, the things that kept him going. His secrets had become the only things that belonged entirely to him. There was so much more to Harry Potter that Severus found himself utterly consumed and obsessed by the possibility of being allowed close enough to learn more. Potter was fascinating, aside from the celebrity status and all the trauma and what-have-you about Harry Potter, the Boy Who lived.

To Severus he was just  _Harry_. And that was far more intoxicating, far more addicting, than anything the paper or the rest of the wizarding world could tell him.

 

 

Harry's pain had subsided almost entirely, he felt a twinge or burn here and there but it didn't cause him to collapse or force his steps to falter. It was manageable, entirely manageable. Even Chester seemed comfortable in his pocket again, sure that Harry wasn't going to fall over and crush him as he had nearly done once or twice before. Severus had kindly returned Chester to his garden while Harry had been recovering, and the snake was delighted to be back with him (though Harry suspected he was more delighted at the undercooked bacon Harry had been sneaking to him).

Harry would have said he was completely and utterly happy beyond all belief if not for the nerves that wrought his stomach to bits and had him trying to skip meals again. His first session with Professor Burbage was later that night and he wanted nothing to do with it. Snape had harassed him to eat breakfast, to which Harry was able to get himself out of by sneaking under the table to suck Severus's cock--a worthy distraction. He'd been able to stomach a few bites for lunch, but was able to vanish bits of his meal when Severus had his back turned. Wandless magic, Harry realized (however minute the spells he was casting were) was incredibly useful, especially when it came to his selfish needs. 

He was to meet with the rest of the students and Professors that remained at Hogwarts for the holidays and struggled to find a way out of this one. Right after the meal, Professor Burbage would escort him to her office. No time to make himself sick, no time to run or hide. He felt trapped, like the walls of his cupboard were around him and closing on all his choices. He felt the panic attack coming on, felt the way it closed up his chest and constricted his lungs. He dug his nails into his palms and tried to remember what Remus had told him once about deep breathing. Tried to close his eyes and meditate through the haze of nargles he was sure Luna would tell him were infesting his thought cloud. He tried to close his eyes and picture Snape's arms around him, he tried to hear Chester's encouraging hisses from his pocket:  _"Come on, friend, calm. Chester wants attention!"_  but--

\--not a single fucking thing worked and tears sprung to his eyes. He removed the snake from his pocket and left him in his cage, extended by magic and accentuated by homely plants and rocks, the perfect snake-terrarium.  

Harry made for the Common Room, his wand clutched painfully tight in his palm. He was fighting his urges, genuinely fighting himself as he dropped to his knees before the fire place. Dumbledore had granted him a pouch of floo powder, enchanted in order to allow him to contact Grimmauld Place (fire-chat only), where Remus had finally decided to take up permanent residence. He let the powder slip through his fingers and back into the satchel as he weighed his options. He could floo Remus, he could talk to him about what he was feeling, how painful everything was, that he was torn between asking for help and struggling on his own...

Harry stared into the flames, mesmerized by their flickering casualty. Dangerous but beautiful all at the same time. A bell rang in the distance, a reminder that dinner was being served. A reminder that he should be there. That he should eat before his session with Professor...er, Dr. Burbage, but Harry refused to heed the warning. He refused to heed the second bell as well, and the third. He could feel in his bones that Severus was furious. No doubt as punctual as ever, Snape was waiting for him to join his seat at the end of the table. He could feel it just as sharply as a minor wave of pain coursed through him. The pain he tried to embrace. It wasn't self-inflicted, but if he could convince himself to believe he wanted it, that he deserved it, maybe it would suffice. He swallowed thickly and twirled his wand between his fingertips. He held the tip of holly-phoenix tail feather to his wrist and couldn't stand the thought of forcing his own wand to hurt him. He wasn't even sure he could say the spell. Just a slash here and there, just a--

_CRACK!_

Harry jumped to his feet swiftly, his wand held at the ready in front of him, only to find Dobby's yellow-green globes staring back at him.

"Harry Potter is late for dinner, Dobby is being sent to fetch Harry Potter--"

Harry took a second to catch his breath, to will the panic away, "Dobby, sorry. I didn't expect--" he sighed and shook his head, "Might you be able to bring me a small plate? I...I can't go down there right now," Harry insisted earnestly, "Please, Dobby, I need to eat alone."

"Dobby is having strict orders--"

"Please, Dobby, I'm begging you--"

"Dobby is agreeing, Harry Potter doesn't look so good. Dobby will be bringing Harry Potter his dinner. Dobby will be telling Master Dumbledore that Harry Potter is needing his privacy. Dobby will be telling Master Snape that he will sit with Harry Potter while he eats?"

"That would be brilliant, Dobby, please, thank you--" Dobby was gone before Harry could finish and back with a monstrous plate of food before he could start again, "I--thank you, Dobby, I don't know how to--"

"Dobby isn't needing thanks from Harry Potter, Dobby is just wanting Harry Potter to eat his dinner. Dobby knows Harry Potter is needing to be alone so Dobby will let Harry Potter eat alone," the elf was gone before he could see the sheen of grateful tears in his eyes. Harry collapsed again in front of the fireplace, his plate full and overwhelming. Because of Dobby, Harry forced himself to take a few meager bites of Shepherd's Pot pie. One of his favorites, yes, but he couldn't taste a single bite and refused to torture himself any further as he threw the plate in its entirety into the fire, watching as it cooked and burned to ash. 

He returned to his inner turmoil and tried to ignore the slog of stewed beef, vegetables, and potatoes forming solid blocks in his stomach. He fisted a handful of floo powder, eyed the flames and his wand in turn. With an unsteady breath and an almost surrender to a firechat, Harry let the powder slip through his fingers into their pouch for the last time and turned his wand to his wrist. A sharp red light erupted from its tip, a spell he'd learned that brandished a knife-like capability, and pressed it hard against the skin halfway between his elbow and his wrist, perfectly covered by black robes and too-long sleeves. He moved his wand with short strokes, brief and gentle enough that it took a moment before tiny pearls of blood bubbled to the surface. It wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough but he forced himself to stop and sheathed his wand, chest heaving with released panic.

It was time for therapy.

If he didn't leave now he would be late.

Embracing the recent self-destructive satisfaction, Harry forced himself to his feet and made his way to Charity Burbage's office.

 

Despite the fact that he'd left on time, his steps dragged so slowly he still managed to be late. He knocked softly, hoping it was soft enough that she wouldn't hear him and he'd be able to--

"Hello, Harry, come on in," Burbage greeted gently with such warmth he knew he didn't deserve. Hesitantly he entered her office and picked the lounge chair furthest from her desk. She didn't seem to care as she settled herself back into her own chair, a soft smile on her face. It wasn't pitying or expectant...it just  _was._

Harry chewed his lip, unsure of what to say next.

"I know you aren't excited about this."

It wasn't a question but Harry nodded either way.

"It's a brave thing, you know. To agree to get help when it's the last thing you want."

Harry didn't say anything then and looked away from her instead, taking in the serene decor of her office. There were no personal effects, no pictures of her family or any obvious quidditch team support. Her degrees were hung on one wall, a few certificates line in gold frames. He focused on studying them. They sat in silence for a while.

"I--er, I don't know where I'm supposed to start," Harry admitted lowly, his words barely audible.

"You don't have to start anywhere, Harry."

Harry nodded, but he didn't know what to say. 

"How about I start first?"

Harry met her eyes in surprise, encouragement enough for Charity to continue on, "Everything you say here is confidential. I can't tell a soul what we speak about. Not your friends, not your family, not the Headmaster. I'm a witch who has sworn to keep the confidentiality of my clients," she said in earnest, a speech so genuine he couldn't decipher if it had been rehearsed or not, "In fact, I've gone the extra mile in making an oath to my profession. Magic protects all your secrets. Not even Veritaserum could break this oath without your express permission."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed and he was surprised to find that he believed her every word. 

"The only way in which I would betray your trust is if I thought you were in danger of hurting yourself or someone else."

Harry nodded at this. This he could understand.

"So, Harry. The rest is up to you."

He watched her carefully over his glasses, his nails scratching and picking nervously at the tiny nicks on his hands. It wasn't full, but he felt like he could trust her, "I'm not supposed to be like this," he said at long last, absolute dejection and depression thick and laden in his mouth, "I'm supposed to--I don't know. I'm just not...I'm not right. I'm not the person everyone needs me to be.

"What is it that you believe you are?"

"Broken. Useless. Weak. A pathetic slut," Harry snapped at her forgetting that she couldn't possibly know any of that.

"What made you feel this way about yourself?" she spoke gently, gently enough that Harry felt lulled into a security he hadn't felt since he'd been held tight in Snape's arms.

"I just am, there's no way around it."

 

 

The session had been...surprisingly therapeutic. And, considering that was the point, Harry still felt...quite good. Still impossibly anxious as he scratched at his hands so sharply he drew blood while he trekked his way from her office with a another appointment scheduled in two days. It hadn't been nearly as awful as he had thought it would be. He was...surprisingly, willing to go back again.

Harry was climbing the last set of stairs to Gryffindor Common Room, the portrait of the Fat Lady was in sight and he was relieved for that, only--

There was Snape as well, waiting for him under the guise of patrolling the utterly empty corridors. Harry froze on the staircase as it moved to meet his intended landing. Snape hadn't seem him yet--he turned back around and tried desperately to slip away without being--

"Potter."

The voice was even. Cold. Demanding. Harry had no choice but to wince and turn back around as Severus made his way down the staircase and hooked a sharp hand around his arm, "My chambers. Now."

Harry didn't bother arguing, didn't bother fighting it. He let Snape lead him the entire way without another word.

It wasn't until they were securely in Snape's chambers, silencing charms, doors locked and all that Harry wrenched his arm out of Snape's grasp, "What the fuck do you want from me? I went to therapy, I did what I had to!" Harry spat, anger taking the place of the nerves that seemed content on jumbling the meager contents of his stomach, "It's always 'Harry do this' and 'Harry do that'--I fucking did it all, leave me  _alone_ already!"

Severus leveled him with a cold, unamused glare, his lip curled and that was how Harry knew the words that came next would not be kind, "A forty-five minute therapy session, skipping meals--"

"I didn't skip anything, Snape, Dobby brought me--"

"Dobby brought you dinner that consequently ended up in flames, don't you deign to think you can pull one over on me, Harry. It's not going to happen!" Snape's voice rose, startlingly loud, and as he crossed the room with anger in every fiber of his being, Harry stumbled backwards and reflexively raised an arm to protect himself. When the blow he had been expecting did not make contact, Harry eyed Snape over his shield. Snape looked even more livid with him, if that were possible, "Do you really believe I'd hit you?"

Harry turned away from him, put as much space between the pair of them as possible, "How am I supposed to know, everyone else finds a chance to, why not you next?" The words were meant to maim, to display his distrust in everything and everyone. They weren't true, gods, no, Harry believed in his heart of hearts that Snape would never hurt him, but he was angry. He felt betrayed, and he was bloody sick and fucking tired of everyone hovering over him, "Sixteen years and you never gave a shit how thin I was, how fucked up I was--you thought I wanted it, you--you made it worse! And now you want to pretend to be my...knight in shining armor?" Harry scoffed and kicked over the chair that accompanied Snape's desk, "Fuck you, I made it this far on my own, haven't I? Just because I...skipped a fucking meal? I tried the therapy. I'm going to go back. Isn't that all you and Dumbledore have asked of me?" Harry was panting then, desperate to shove his hand in the boiling cauldron atop Snape's laboratory table.

Snape said nothing. The silence was more sinister than anything Snape could have said to him.

"Show me your arms, Potter, I won't ask twice."

As Harry refused, he felt a strange sensation and, no matter how hard he fought it, he was baring his cut wrists to Snape, full of disgusting embarrassment with himself, "This is none of your business," Harry spat quickly, his defense mechanism was only appropriate if he was angry. Of course it was Snape's business, Snape who had saved his life numerous time, Snape who was consistently, unfailingly there for him. Snape who made him feel things he'd never felt before, "I was nervous, alright, I didn't--I couldn't--there was nothing else I could do that would get rid of it!" The explanation sounded pathetic, even to him, but Snape did not say a word.

Instead, he turned away from Harry. This display of rejection, the pain he felt in his chest to see Severus turn his back on him like that--Harry thought he might crumble.

"I am done watching you _self-destruct_ ," Snape said finally had Harry frozen to his core, "I will _not_ be with you. I will _not_ do everything in my power to help you when _you refuse to try_. You tried to kill yourself a week ago. You were content to leave _me_ and _everyone else_  that is  _sacrificing themselves_ for you. I won't stand by and watch this, I won't fight you on it anymore. _Go_ , Potter. Attend your therapy, try a fucking... _stress ball_ , but do not come back here. Do not  _expect_ me to put up with this. I gave you my conditions and you've ignored every single one," he finished at long last, a note of dismissal in his voice. "I want you but I will _not_ do everything in my power to help you when _you refuse to try._ If you wanted this, if you wanted me, if you wanted to get better, even just for _yourself_ \--you would be trying harder than this. I want nothing to do with a _child_ who gives up the instant things get _hard_."

"Severus--"

"It's Professor Snape to you, from now on." 

"Don't do this, I can't--"

"Get out, Potter. I don't want to see you. I can't even look at you when you're like this. Scarred _,_ emaciated, and bleeding all at once. You're not even _trying._  You claim that _you_ can't do this and well, neither can _I_." Severus's voice was low, almost hissing. Harry stepped forward and reached for his arm, tried to pull him around, tried to get him to look him in the eyes, one last time. Snape's arm snapped out sharply and caused Harry to lose his balance. He cracked painfully against the stone floor. Severus didn't turn to see him there. Severus didn't turn as he shoved himself to his feet. Severus did not turn as Harry spoke, one final time:

"If this is what you want, so be it, _Professor_ ," his words were a threat, a challenge. Severus didn't rise to that either. His chest heaving, tears flowing freely down his face, Harry burst through the door, his magic strong enough to splinter it and nearly tear it off of its hinges. Snape was giving up on him. What else did he have left to lose?

 No, no, he wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of finding his body at the foot of the astronomy tower. No, he wasn't going to kill himself. He didn't want to die. He merely wanted to self-destruct until Severus felt so fucking guilty that  _he_ would wish he were dead instead. If Snape thought he wasn't trying? Merlin, the fucker would just have to wait and see what not trying truly entailed.

 

 

 

He holed up in the Room of Requirement. He did not attend meals. He did not walk the grounds nor chance leaving the room without the cover of his invisibility cloak. He snuck to the kitchen for meager portions when he was sure that he would faint if he didn't eat something soon. He practiced his wandless magic endlessly. He set fire to a practice dummy by pretending it was Vernon. He nearly caused an explosion on another but was able to quell that with desperate thoughts. Every single meal he missed for the next few days, he relished in his growling stomach and hoped that Snape was in just as much pain as he was. The desperate wounds on his wrist were easily tended. Bandages and half-assed healing spells would suffice. Even in a t-shirt, he didn't much give a fuck about his scars. If anyone dared to ask him in the future he would allow them one day in his shoes to stomach the pressure, the history of trauma, and the unbearable pain of a broken heart.

He was careless one afternoon. He'd spent the entire night practicing magic both with and without his wand. He was dehydrated as he'd run out of water from his last quick scavenge. The combination of dehydration and starvation had been enough for him to forget his cloak as he made his way to the kitchens. The moment he left the Room of Requirement the portraits sounded, screaming that they'd found him, that he was trying to run from them all. A portrait had appeared as a blockade in front of the Room of Requirement, no doubt a request that someone who knew about the rooms capabilities had made, refusing him re-entry. Sir Cadigan charged through portrait after portrait, refusing to lose sight of him as he cried out in attentive alert.

As he took the stairs, two-by-two, Harry realized it didn't matter anymore. Snape had left him, Snape had given up. As far as everyone else was concerned, he was on holiday. If he didn't want to participate in Dumbledore's forced, bullshit feasts, why would he bother? With a breath he hoped would steal his resolve, Harry took the stairs to the kitchens as casually as he could, his hands white-knuckled either railing as he walked, trying to keep the dark spots in his eyes from taking him down. 

He had just reached the dungeons, had just lifted a hand to tickle the kitchen's tricky pear, and had felt like he was entirely in the clear until a familiar cold voice spoke lowly behind him. Harry refused to look at Snape the same way that Snape had refused to look at him when he'd broken his heart, "I'm on break, Professor," he hissed venomously, "I'm well within curfew and you can't do a damn thing about it," it was true. It was hardly even five o'clock. Enough time to grab a quick bite and head back to his training.

Severus stepped closer to him and Harry felt uncomfortably stuck between a rock and a hard place. Severus dared to press his body against Harry, Harry who was pleased at himself and the his tiny frame as Severus's long fingers cut deep against each protruding rib, displaying his achievements, "You're the one who told me to fuck off," Harry, muttered as his boldly and uncaring as he could manage. Even further, he was entirely able to control his body and stepped as far away from Severus as the portrait would allow him before it swung open, "I didn't want this, you did," he added callously as he stepped forward.

Snape had given up on him.

Snape had told him to figure it out on his own and, so, here Harry was, back at square one.

Things might have been easier if he hadn't just figured out that he was impossibly in love with Severus Snape. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> further filled with unnecessary angst and pain


	38. In Which Harry Fights to Get Back His Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is an uphill battle. A step forward, five back. Ten miles forward, two back. It will be better, but never perfect. Harry will slip. But he is growing. And shit is going to change for better or worse, all the time.
> 
> Triggers warning as usual. Comments are always loved and responded to <3
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply.

Much to Harry's dismay, Snape followed him through the portrait into the kitchens--and not at any sort of distance either. Harry regained better control of himself and refused to lean back against the ominous presence of the man who had broken his heart as easily as his slight frame had been tossed to the floor. He resisted the urge to ask Snape what in the fuck he wanted and instead sat himself on his usual stool where Winky or Dobby had taken to leaving small portions of each meal out for him. It wasn't often that he made it, but when he did, they were pleased. Harry still ignored Severus with a persistence even Snape himself was proud of. He ignored him through his first measured bite, promptly chewed (too many times) and swallowed with a chug of water. He ignored him until he was finished. Ignored him when he flicked his wand and vanished any trace he'd left behind.

When Harry stood to leave, still content to ignore his Professor, Severus stood as well and got in his way, "Harry."

"Mr. Potter, to you, Professor," he snapped, his tone bitter and biting, enough to make any normal man recoil and leave him be. Severus Snape was not a normal man. But he supposed he'd known that from the beginning.

"I believe we owe it to ourselves to discuss what happened--"

"What happened is you, quite literally, left me on my ass, there's nothing else to talk about," he stepped around Snape, but Snape reached and grabbed his wrist before he could get too far. Harry, for once, was grateful that therapy had actually managed to give him a few coping skills. He was doing his best not to cut, and didn't have any fresh ones to tear under Snape's grasp (though a minor part of him thought he would have relished in the pain in that moment).

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry for what I said. For the...way I behaved," Snape said, at long last, and dropped Harry's wrist from his grasp. It was an unfair trick. Now that Harry didn't want to leave, Snape was allowing him, almost urging him to go. He spun around angrily, rage written on his face in red, eyes a bold storm of emerald green and Forbidden Forest trees. He was so distracted by his anger that he couldn't even find it in himself to be shocked that he, Harry Potter, had received a genuine apology from Severus Snape.

"You fucking should be! You--after everything--" he had so much pain, so much to say but he couldn't get the words out, couldn't formulate them in a way that would hurt Snape as much as Snape had hurt him, "You broke my fucking heart when I needed you the most--" he choked on the words and felt further embarassed when Snape took a step back, and Harry knew instantly that he had said too much. Love was not on Severus Snape's agenda, love was not something that he wanted to feel. The rejection was sharp as any knife. His face bright red, he turned to run--

"I only left because it broke mine to watch you self-destruct."

The words hit Harry like the first wave that creeps up on you at the beach, ice cold and too much, too shocking. It numbed him to his core and enticed him to dive under, to submerge himself completely. He'd only ever been to the beach once. The Dursley's had taken him and Dudley down by the water. They'd snapped photographs of Dudley in water wings, flapping adorably, while Harry had walked straight in and been swept away carelessly by the current. It was the first and last time that he had ever seen panic on Aunt Petunia's face. The last time because somehow, magically, he'd floated back to shore after having never swam before.

Here, he knew there was no magic to help him. No right answer. He still felt like he was drowning.

"You have to understand something, Harry," Snape started, his voice quiet--but not the menacing sort of quiet Harry had always been prepared to hear, "I've admitted I care about you. I've shown you that I'm attracted to you in ways that I shouldn't be, I've sacrified my morals, risked everything I have worked to build for this war, by wanting you so desperately it aches," Harry's posture was rigid but he inhaled sharply at Snape's words. He still couldn't find it in himself to turn back around, "All I have asked of you is to try, to try and take care of yourself. To work hard on yourself in order not to self-harm or restrict food. If you will continue to self-destruct, I will force myself not to love you," as I have done once before, he thought to himself, a flash of green eyes and red hair vivid and vibrant until Harry turned around and he realized she had been nothing like him, "I won't watch you sacrifice yourself for the rest of the world, I won't watch you try and kill yourself anymore. Do you understand? I can't bear it."

Harry didn't say anything for a while, but Snape stood his ground. He knew it was an excessive amount of information, he knew that Harry's stomach was probably churning with the food he'd eaten, he knew that Harry was clearly upset because there were horribly pained tears in his eyes and he found it hard to keep looking at him, but he forced himself to. Snape wondered if Harry realized what he'd done to him, how much he'd changed him. Snape wondered if Harry realized how easily distracted he was in class when he didn't show, how worried when he missed meals, how he thought about Harry during every meeting with the Dark Lord and was nearly compromising everything he had worked tirelessly for throughout Harry's entire life.

There was guilt, too. Immeasurable guilt, but he would have to forgive himself of that if Harry could only just forgive him for hurting him like he had. It was wrong, so wrong for Snape to feel the way he did--and about Harry Potter, of all people? He was a man damned, forever cursed to a life worthy of a Shakespeare tragic-comedy.

"I understand," Harry started slowly, and Snape was tense, sure that Harry would bolt from him and run, "And I need you to understand something, too," Harry waited until Snape nodded and seemingly agreed to listen, "It's going to take time. Charity said--she said recovery is an uphill battle. She said we're going to focus on harm-reduction, so you can't force me to sit at a meal and stuff my face and expect it to fix everything. She--I've been this way for such a long time, it's not going to be easy to break certain habits. I'm going to slip up--but that doesn't mean I'm giving up," Harry finished earnestly, his voice hard and firm at the end of it. He was surprised by his own resilliency, "So, if you can deal with this taking time, don't ever fucking throw me away like that again."

For the first time Harry was demanding something of him, what with the way he was bossing him around and essentially ordering him to grow the fuck up. Shockingly enough, it did not make Severus want to take away house points or call him a petulant child. His posture was perfect, and Harry realized that Snape was looking at him with the utmost respect, vulgarity-ridden speech and all. Snape stepped forward until they met somewhere in the middle and pressed their lips together like two people who hadn't touched in an obscene amount of time.

  
Naked and undeniably satisfied back in Snape's chambers, Harry rolled over lazily and propped his chin up on Snape's chest, ignoring the way Snape jabbed a long, mean finger into one of the ribs that was poking out with a frown, "If you ever break my heart again, I think I'll kill you," Harry told him softly, and it was meant as a joke, but there was sudden truth in the room between them.

"I'll be sure to never break it again," even as the words left Snape's lips, he knew they were a lie. One day he would destroy Harry's heart, he would break him. Betray him. Kill the closest thing to a father he had ever had in his life since Sirius had died. One day he would. And one day he'd let Potter kill him for it.

One day, sure, but not now.

 

 

Term was back in full swing and, though they all sat together at Gryffindor table, none of them really spoke. Hermione was still distraught over her parents and the way everyone had last seen Harry leaving Grimmauld Place, Ron looked scared as if anything he said might put Harry over the edge again, and Harry didn't know how to face anyone at all. It wasn't until dinner on the third night that Ginny slammed her hand down on the table and turned to them, her hair whipped around, almost like fire itself.

"You three are best bloody friends, be there for one another, stop--whatever this _mourning_ shit is, we're sick of it," she snapped and, in that she included everyone in their vicinity who nodded with averted eyes, "Figure it out already, life is too short for all of us to tiptoe around one another. We've a term to finish and a war to win, at some point. Merlin, you're all being so stupid!"

She stood with a huff and left the Great Hall. Hermione stood to go after her, but Neville beat her to it, followed by Luna, who had seen the outburst a table away. Dean and Seamus looked impossibly uncomfortable and, with a snort, Harry cast a silencing charm, "She's right, you know. We've got to figure something out."

Ron and Hermione jumped, startled that Harry had spoken so plainly in front of everyone, until they realized what he'd done, "We just don't know what to say to you, Harry--"

"I don't expect you to. I nearly got your parents murdered, and everyone else, I almost killed myself in Grimmauld Place a month ago, I've been an absolute horror to both of you since bloody August and it's nearly February. I'm surprised you lot haven't tried to kill me yourselves."

Ron's jaw dropped at the bluntness of his words, Hermione looked uncomfortable, but Harry found that he was handling this all quite well, "Harry, you _saved_ my parents. It wasn't--"

"Forget that, for a second. I've got to finish or it won't come out right. I'm sorry how I've treated you both, you've done nothing but stand by me. I'm going through something, as you know, and it's...too much to explain right now. I'm seeing a therapist, I'm working on myself. You don't have to tip-toe around me, you can tell me when I'm being an arse. If I try to skip a meal tell Professor Snape about it," Harry told them and, as Ron blanched at the prospect of approaching Snape for anything, "He told me to offer you the option. It's fine. You don't have to handle me on your own. From now on, really, you can go to Snape or McGonogall...or write Remus," he told them gently and willed both of them to hear in his tone how much he preferred they wouldn't go to anyone, "But I'm really, really going to try this time, it's going to be different. It has to be. And it's time I'm held accountable." 

It wasn't a cure all, be all moment. It was all he could say.

"Don't 'ave to tell me twice, 'Arry, I'll be sure to tell y'when you're bein' a dick," Ron muttered through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, a tiny bit of spittle passing his lips that made Hermione cringe and whack his arm with the back of her hand, "Wha-? He _said_ -"

"Do you _ever_ stop eating? This is supposed to be a nice moment-"

"How many times are you goin' to ask me that, 'Mione? You know the answer-"

As the pair continued to bicker, Harry felt a smile growing on his face. It grew until it broke into laughter, and he laughed until his cheeks hurt, his arms wrapped around his stomach to try and quell the ache of muscles he hadn't used in a long time. Ron and Hermione joined him in laughter not long after. The silencing charm broke without Harry's focus, and if any one of them had been paying attention, they would have noticed how everyone in the Great Hall turned to look at them in surprise. They hadn't had a moment like this since last year, and even then the laughs were far and few between. Gryffindor table chattered with cheerfulness, glad their trio was finding their way back together again.

At the high table, Snape ducked his head to hide the barely-there quirk of his lips. Harry's laughter was a  _magnificent_ sound.

 

 

The week passed peacefully. Hermione was glad to receive word from her parents by-way of Bill and Fleur. Apparently the Granger's were enjoying their time at Shell Cottage, recovering from the trauma they'd suffered over the holiday. Things seemed like they were getting calmer and calmer each day. At least until Dumbledore summoned Harry to his office and subjected him to an onslaught of old memories about Voldemort. Once again, he felt horribly outmatched. Like a failure--how was he supposed to take on Voldemort who was making horcruxes at age 16, when he could barely keep his eyes open during a History of Magic class? When he had night terrors so bad that even Ron noticed his thrashing through a silencing charm? Harry was at an absolute loss, and he couldn't help running over the words Severus had used to hurt him months ago..."how many talented witches and wizards have to lay their necks on the line for you?" These were the thoughts that kept him up at night, the thoughts that made his stomach churn and his wrists ache for release.

After his odd sort of lesson with Dumbledore, Harry made his way to Snape's office. He ensured they would be alone before he entered and dropped, exhausted, into the chair across from Snape's desk. Snape's eyes flicked up from the stack of papers he was grading for a brief moment before focusing again. Harry watched in silence as he slashed and marked and essentially destroyed some poor soul's essay--

"That's not mine, is it?" Harry chanced with a raised eyebrow, granting himself a snort from Snape who dropped his red-ink dipped quill and took off his glasses before he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Not yet, at least," Severus drawled in a tone that dropped with sarcasm and caused Harry to roll his eyes good-naturedly, "I take it your meeting with the Headmaster was..." Snape mulled over the appropriate word, "...exhausting?"

It was Harry's turn to snort, "To say the least."

Severus set down his grading quill and crossed his arms over his chest before he leaned back in his chair. He surveyed Harry over the rim of his glasses for a brief moment before he took them off and massaged the bridge of his nose with closed eyes, "I presume he has asked a monumental task of you but hasn't explained it's purpose other than the fact that it regards to the other monumental task he has asked of you since you were 11?" 

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm, "How did you guess?"

"I've been working with the Headmaster privately since you were barely one year old," Severus said drily, "Obviously." He stood then and flicked his wand, sending the papers back into a file cabinet before he turned back to Harry who was lost in thought, barely aware of Severus's teasing sarcasm, "Penny for your thoughts?" 

It took Harry a moment to recognize what Snape had said and another moment to gather those thoughts, "I just...I don't know what he wants from me. He doesn't give me anything and yet, expects me to be the downfall of Lord Voldemort? Why can't he do it himself? He's more powerful than... _anyone_! Why is it me, of all people, I'm incapable, I'm nothing, no one--just a stupid fucking prophecy by a crackpot old witch--" Harry's tirade was cut short by Severus clapping a gentle hand over his mouth from behind, causing Harry to start and whip around with an accusatory look on his face.

"Hush, Potter, I won't listen to you talk about yourself like that. Listen--" Severus dropped his hand from Harry's mouth and let the weight of his palms warm Harry's shoulders before he began gently kneading the tense knots that were undoubtedly there, "As...impossibly aggravating as it is, Albus does have a method to his madness, so to speak," Severus sighed and pressed his thumb against the back of Harry's neck to ease the rigidity out of his spine. The gesture caused Harry to moan in absolute bliss. Everything ached, felt sore and too tense to relax, "He's as human as all of us. He has made and will make more mistakes. If it drains you so, tell him. Tell him knowing why he asks certain things of you will help you with the bigger picture."

Harry gave this some thought before he eventually nodded in agreement. It was worth a try, anyway. Maybe he wouldn't get all the answers, but even a partial answer would be better than nothing, "I'm supposed to be this monumental piece in this war, in Voldemort's defeat...but he and most of the Order still act as if I'm a child. They try and keep me in the dark or...cease conversation when I enter a room," Harry let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head, "I deserve to know as much as anyone else. Ron and Hermione too, they're dead set on coming with me next year, you know. I haven't been able to talk them out of it--Hermione was more adamant than Ron, I was shocked she didn't want us to finish our N.E.W.T's first," Harry rambled, his nerves getting the better of him as he thought of the future to come. Of hunting Horcruxes that could be anything (Dumbledore wanted him to come up with some ideas, as if Harry knew Voldemort best). Of trying to destroy them with no prior knowledge on Horcruxes...Harry felt his anxiety spike and he buried his face in his hands. His spine arched against Severus's palms though the other had stopped massaging his back moments ago.

 "You plan to skip your final year?" 

Harry turned in his chair to meet Severus's eyes. He was relieved to see that the others eyes held no anger, only confusion, "Yes. I--things are only getting worse, too many people are dying, there have been too many close calls...the sooner I start trying to destroy him, the sooner it all stops. Severus he--" Harry hesitated...surely Dumbledore had told his most trusted man about Voldemorts attempt at immortality--"Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?"

Snape pulled his hands from Harry's shoulders as if he'd been burnt, "What of them?" Something in his eyes had changed, they were darker than Harry had ever seen them. He seemed impossibly livid now, not at Harry but at the words he'd uttered, "Disgusting, wretched Dark Magic--" he muttered and turned away, as if to compose himself.

"Volde--" as Severus's shoulders tensed impossibly further, Harry corrected himself, "The Dark Lord made...some."

Snape seemed as still as a statue. Harry stood slowly and crossed the room towards him. The man didn't budge in the slightest as Harry placed his hand on Severus's arm, "Some. How many?"

It was Harry's turn to stiffen, "Based on tonight...Dumbledore thinks seven. He would have gone for the utmost--"

"Impossible. No one could survive that--"

"The diary my second year was one of them. We couldn't have known at the time but--Riddle was feeding off of Ginny, the part of his soul in the diary grew strong enough to manifest itself," Harry said quietly and waited till Severus was able to turn to him, "Dumbledore believes he knows the location of another. His plan is to retrieve it in a few weeks time. He said he destroyed another, but didn't disclose much detail about it. It has something to do with his hand, I know it does." 

"Of course. I was able to contain the curse but being unfamiliar with the curses origin--and a Horcrux no less, it's no wonder it couldn't be healed," Snape seemed lost in thought with his lips pursed in a thin line and his vision unfocused.

"Does that mean Dumbledore will--"

Severus hesitated, "In due time, the Headmaster will inform you what is in store for him."

The words were weighted, heavy with a longing to disclose more, but thick with the realization that he was unable to say anything further. Not this. The thing he was sure would destroy Harry. Both of them, "Should I not have told you--"

"No, I'm glad you did. We won't inform the headmaster but if I can be of any help to you--"

"Any ideas on the remaining 5?" Harry tried helplessly. The met one another's eyes then, and both of them knew that speculation was ultimately futile unless they had the remaining clues Dumbledore had yet to disclose.

"Perhaps Nagini--"

"Is it possible to create a Horcrux out of a living thing?"

"It was supposed to be impossible to split ones soul twice, let alone seven times."

"I don't think Volde--Riddle would have made any of something frivolous. He's too proud and...his ego is too fragile," Harry mused, more to himself than to Snape.

Severus almost looked amused at Harry's words. No one in the world had ever or would ever use the word fragile to describe the Dark Lord. He shuddered to think what would happen to any who vocalized this opinion. He waited while Harry thought, curious to hear more of his opinions. It was refreshing and terrifying the way Harry disregarded fear of the Dark Lord, the way he was so intent of destroying him. Something many far older than he had never even entertained.

"Something of value to the founders, he would put himself as their equals, the creators of the only place he felt at home. Where he began his reign, the ideology of his superiority--"

"Helga Hufflepuff's goblet," Snape offered, "Ravenclaw's diadem--" Severus shook his head, "But these have been lost for decades. How does the Headmaster expect you to--" Snape was struck again by the insurmountable task before Harry. Anger coursed through him--Harry was so young and blindly charged head-long into a war based on the occasional tidbits of information from a man who had more secrets than anyone he'd ever known, "So you intend to spend as much time as you can searching and destroying the Horcruxes next year?"

Harry nodded solemnly, "I've already learnt magic that far surpasses anything I could be taught next year, there's no sense in waiting any longer. July 31st I'll be of age. The Trace will have expired, there won't be anything stopping me then. It has to be done, it's got to be me. I can--this might sound strange to you but...I could feel it. Riddle's diary. I could feel the evil part of him. I didn't recognize it then but I could. I can use that," Harry reasoned. His mind was made up, Severus could see that. But it wasn't the reckless stubborn mindset of a Gryffindor, it was that of a man's.

"You don't have to do it all alone. Weasley and Granger, more so Granger, will admittedly be of some help--but don't shut out others who offer. Don't be surprised if there is pushback either. I doubt Molly and Arthur, Remus even, will be willing to let any of you throw yourself headfirst into this path."

"And you?"

Severus smiled, however sad and gentle it was, "I'm beginning to learn I am no match for your stubbornness. You're a man, Harry, and we are both as much apart of this war as anyone. I can't stop you. I won't stop you. But, no matter what happens in the future, you can always turn to me in a time of need."

Harry stepped forward then, wrapped his hands in the folds of Severus's robes and kissed him hard. With the passion and determination he felt in that moment, Harry could have lost himself there forever and he wouldn't have minded. When they parted, Snape rested his forehead against Harry's his eyes closed while Harry scanned his face, no matter the awkward angle, "No matter what happens."

Harry was struck by the pain in Severus's features. He tried to shake the thought that Snape sounded almost resigned...certain that something was going to happen. As they stripped one another of clothing and rutted their erections helplessly against one another, Harry whimpering pleasurably at the sensation as the back of Snape's desk pressed hard against his ass--he forced himself to forget.


	39. In Which Harry Can't Seem to Escape His Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! Keep in mind that this story is (obviously) and AU. Trust me when I say I am an avid reader of the Harry Potter series and I KNOW that a lot of the things that are starting to happen are not keeping true to the canon story. But, if Harry and Severus are going to be the endgame, these are changes that I feel are necessary! Bear with me; it will all make sense in due time. 
> 
> I must also let you all know that I struggle desperately to escape the angst. I'm sorry for the rollercoaster ride I've put Harry through. It will probably continue for a long ass time, until I get to the end of this story. And let me be clear, this work is writing itself. I don't know where the endgame is. I'm not entirely sure what will happen at the end of "Book 1" (we'll call it). 
> 
> This story is also un-beta-ed. All mistakes are my own and typically because I have a lot of time to write on my phone and autocorrect fucks me up (and then I get too excited to post a new chapter). I'm always open to ideas, constructive criticism, and questions. Please keep commenting! All the feedback I have received is wonderful--and who knows, ask the right question or pose a brilliant idea and you may just get a spoiler or two! (Yes, I am bribing you all for comments)
> 
> I must also forewarn you. I am a social worker. I work in crisis situations/therapeutic environments and the methods I am familiar with that help others may not be entirely orthodox or proven to work. BECAUSE this is that I am familiar with, and what I can write most knowledgeably on, I am choosing the techniques I use to engage Charity/Harry. Not everything is perfect, therapists never are. But being that Harry is almost in constant crisis, I thought it would be interesting to give him a Crisis-tactic angle at recovery. 
> 
> I've also got to warn youse that there is one or two time skips at the end of the chapter. Just a week or two and then a month-ish or so. I wanted to show some of Harry's progress despite...the angst I put him through this time around lol sorry. 
> 
> Typical trigger warnings and disclaimers apply, you know the deal. Attempted rape ahead. Self-harm too.
> 
> Happy reading!

Harry's legs were thumping in time with the beat of his heart. It didn't matter how many sessions he had with Dr. Burbage, he was always just as nervous as he had been the first time he'd walked into her office and agreed to continue therapy. She was undeniably kind and thoughtful. She asked questions that made him think, questions that caught him off guard. Questions that had him thinking long after his sessions.

He hadn't been doing perfect. But he'd been doing better. He showed up for every meal, despite eating meager portions. He was making the effort. He was trying his best to get back into a routine--not only with meals but with his friends as well. With his classes. He still had urges, but these urges were ones that he was able to talk about with Charity. He was seeing her three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Some session were 45 minutes, others were longer. She had a way of disarming him, a way of getting Harry to trust her unfailingly. It terrified him, but their sessions had become a relationship that he relied on.

"There's something I'm curious about, Harry," Charity started gently during their final session for the week. He raised his eyebrow and nodded for her to continue, "In our first session you mentioned that you are not the person "everyone" needs you to be."

"I--yeah," he muttered and averted his eyes, legs thumping though more subdued. It was unusual to him--he'd never used the word "I" so much in his entire life. He wasn't used to it, to speaking about himself or opening up to someone with such earnest.

"What is it that you believe everyone needs you to be?" Her posture was neutral, calm. She didn't take notes during their session, but Harry had seen her reaching for a notepad once their sessions were over. He wondered how much work she was putting into this. How much thought. How much she truly cared. And, shockingly enough, Harry wholeheartedly believed that she did care about him. And not just because he was "Harry Potter". But because she...simply cared. This too, was unusual to him, in some respect. When he was truly feeling low, he wondered if all the people around him would be around him if he wasn't the "Chosen One". Dumbledore surely wouldn't have invested much interest in him, Ron and Hermione--any of the Weasley's really...Severus. Right? Maybe Sirius wouldn't be dead, his parents might've been alive--he forced himself to let go of the self-deprecating, self-sabotaging pieces of thought lodged deep in the recess of his thoughts.

"I--" he hesitated, unsure of how much he could tell her. He remembered what she'd sworn to him in their first session, "It's true, what they say. I'm the "Chosen One," or whatever you want to call it. It's up to me to defeat Vol...Riddle--and I--I'm just so weak and useless--I'm not the strong hero or the Boy-Who-Lived anymore. I'm...I'm pathetic! I allowed my uncle to...do what he did. I succumbed to the pressure and became...a shell, I became nothing. How can the world depend on me when I can't even take care of myself?" The words were rushed and harsh, blurted before he could take them back. Out there, stretching between them like a toxic fog. He felt his chest tighten, like his words were poisoning him, like they would change everything, how Charity felt about him, how she wanted to help him--what if she gave up?

"Okay, Harry. Come back. Come on. Breathe. Match my pace," her voice started heightened, but slowly, as she kept repeating the same words, Harry found his breathing paired and matched with hers almost unnoticeably. Once his breathing was regulated and he had left the panic behind him, she spoke again, "You put far too much pressure on yourself. Which is not entirely your fault. You can't fix what the wizarding world perceives or believes of you--but you mentioned something about your uncle," Charity paused, as if to allow him the chance to regain himself even further. He braced himself for what was coming next, "You say that you "allowed" your Uncle to assault you--what makes you think that you allowed it?"

"I couldn't stop it. I'm a wizard, I couldn't stop him from fucking me--"

"From raping you, Harry. There's a markedly large difference. How old were you the first time it happened?"

Harry pursed his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. No one had ever asked this of him before. "I was 14 the first time he--you know, put it--"

Charity nodded, signaling she understood, granting Harry a reprieve, "And before then, he'd forced you to provide him with other sexual exploits?"

Harry nodded and held his hand over his mouth to squelch the sob that threatened to break free, "When I was little, I don't remember how old really...it's all kind of a blur. Between being beaten, being tormented by my cousin--" Harry forced himself to breathe deeply, like she'd taught him. He resisted the urge to dig his nails into his skin, "I think he--he used to make me touch him or sit on his lap when no one was around. When I told my aunt about it, not even realizing, she told me I was a dirty boy, a liar. That I should have died like my pig father. He--Vernon...I heard them arguing that night. Before he came to my cupboard and made me sleep outside in the cold like a 'mutt bitch'." He remembered the memory with a shiver. It had been unbearably cold, late into fall. He'd cuddled up with Mrs. Figg's outdoor cats. They'd mewed at him and shared their warmth, "I couldn't do anything about it, I could never stand up for myself because when I did it was so much worse."

"Harry. You were a child. From what you've described, your Uncle was an obese man, with far more strength and power than you could imagine--and following your acceptance to Hogwarts, you were an underage wizard. I'm hearing that Hogwarts was your only safe haven, how could you risk that? You didn't know, you couldn't have. The fear that has been instilled in you since you were a child--you never once allowed him to do what he did. You were terrified. You were conditioned, essentially. The abuse that you were subjected to--you feared for you life, your survival. Isn't it possible that he did everything in his power to make you believe you had no other choice."

"I fought him, every time--even when he threatened Hedwig, even when he--" Harry let out a sob and shook his head, "I tried to stop him, I couldn't...but I tried." He buried his face in his hands, "I guess he--I guess I couldn't have known any differently," he conceded quietly and pulled his hand through his hair roughly.

"Exactly, Harry. Exactly. You were a child then, powerless to stop the trauma you were subject to. But you are not powerless anymore. He can't get to you."

Harry closed his eyes and tried his best to absorb her words. Physically, realistically, Vernon could not get to him. But as memories swarmed and forced themselves to the forefront, Harry realized Vernon would always be able to get to him. In his nightmares. In his thoughts, "I c-can't, not anymore. I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm done--"

"Hey, listen. It's okay. We're done for today. It's alright. Catch your breath. Harry--I will never push you to talk about anything if you're not ready. When you need to stop always feel comfortable enough to tell me that you've had enough, I will always respect that. Everyone has limits. You're more than entitled to those limits. You have control here," Charity assured him as he calmed himself down and pulled it together. He had control. He had control here. He was safe. No one could hurt him.

Harry sat in her office cradling himself for another half hour. Charity said very little. Only offered assurances. That he could stay as long as he needed. That he was in control. That he could take a break and enjoy himself in Hogsmeade this weekend. Somewhere in the realm of eleven o'clock, Harry left Dr. Burbage's office far more composed than when he'd entered and where he'd ended an hour earlier. There was a heavy weight on his chest, he felt nauseous--and not because he'd eaten a decent meal. He realized that, perhaps, he was hungry again. That his hunger was catching up to him after all these months. He swallowed thickly around the bile that rose in his chest and, once he was far enough away from her office, Harry dropped back against the nearest stone wall and sunk with his knees pressed hard to his chest.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that. Well past curfew, at least. It wasn't until he heard the cackling of Slytherins that Harry shifted and raised his head from his knees. There were two boys, a year older than he--Yaxley and Nott, he thought he remembered from quidditch matches prior to this year. Draco was behind them, though he looked incredibly uncomfortable. Harry tensed. This was absolutely the last thing he needed. The last thing he wanted to deal with.

"Oi, Potter--what ye' doin' up so late, hm?" The tall one, Nott (he assumed) started in, getting close enough to dig the toe of his shoe into Harry's ribs.

Yaxley joined in and ruffled his hand through Harry's hair, "Well past curfew for you, no?" There was a slight accent, perhaps French? Harry couldn't tell, all he could tell was that Yaxley had tightened his fingers against his scalp and was yanking him to his feet. Harry's wand slipped from his sleeve and into his palm, but Nott was quick to disarm him before he even had the chance to utter a spell.

"Might we have a bit'o'fun, Yax? C'mon Malfoy, have at 'im!" Nott taunted and stepped aside to let Draco into the ring. Much to the older boys dismay, Malfoy turned away with muttered recusal and continued off down the hall, leaving Harry with Yaxley and Nott, who seemed hell bent on "having fun". Harry let out a hiss of pain as Yaxley yanked him down the hall and into the nearest empty classroom, another hiss of pain as Yaxley threw him aggressively to the floor, where Nott joined in with a kick, "Always knew that Malfoy bitch was a pansy--"

It wasn't until Nott leant in, his breath hot and tainted that Harry realized both boys were drunk and without his wand, he was well out of control in this situation. It raised panic in his chest, struck fear deep into his bones. The situation was too familiar, too fresh and raw in his mind--it didn't help that he was working one squelching memories of Vernon, considering the session he'd just had--Harry shook the thought and tried to focus. Took in his surroundings. As Yaxley started in on him, Harry kicked out his right leg and caught the leg of a chair, knocking it hard to the floor in Yaxley's direction, causing the drunken snake to trip over himself and land hard on his forearms. He used the distraction to scramble away, had just turned to push himself up at a run when a loud clatter sounded and he collapsed to the ground again, not quite paralyzed, but completely lacking control of his legs.

Nott was on top of him then, sneering and threatening things that Harry couldn't understand because all he could think of were Nott's knees digging sharply into his side and Yaxley's hands were pulling at his robes--

"Get the fuck off me!" Harry shouted, lashing out with the arm he managed to get free. He hadn't even made contact with Yaxley before the bastard was sent across the room where he hit the wall opposite and collapsed, unconscious.

"You'll pay for that, you fucking twink--" Nott spat and covered Harry's mouth with his less-dominant hand which freed his wand arm and granted him the ability to petrify Harry underneath him, "So dainty, you might as well be a girl--" Nott hissed, his breath thick and wet in Harry's ear. Harry was vaguely aware of Nott's hand reaching down to free himself from his trousers. It wasn't until Nott reached to the waistband of Harry's jeans that he began to truly struggle, his entire body was stiff, though he could wiggle only slightly in unison with the rest of himself, Harry didn't give up, "Don't be a fucking bitch, Potter, take it like a man--" Nott started, fisting his cock with one hand while the other attempted to still Harry's struggling.

There was more of a struggle, Harry was able to throw his arms back and swing at Nott desperately. Nott was quicker and yanked Harry back by the hair and crushed the side of his face against the cold, unforgiving stone floor, so similar to his Uncle at Grimmauld place. Harry yelped, stars and spots spinning in his eyes, his glasses strewn broken and just a bit too far for him to reach--

As Nott pressed the head of his cock between Harry's cheeks, a few things happened at once. Harry was suddenly free, the door of the classroom burst open, and Nott was screaming, his exposed skin burning and blistering with a curse Harry knew he'd learnt over the past few weeks but had been unsuccessful casting wandlessly--until now. Before he realized what, exactly, was happening, Nott and Yaxley were both tied and bound to one another in the corridor and someone was reaching to help Harry put himself back together again. He was vaguely aware of the tears staining his cheeks and how the cuts on the side of his face burned on contact.

It wasn't long before Harry recognized the rough-yet-gentle hands cupping his cheeks, the soft fingers that combed through his hair as he repeated the same question over and over again--Snape. Snape was there, asking if he was okay. Snape was there trying to lull him, to pull him from his panic. Vaguely, Harry heard Severus saying something about Draco coming to get him, to warn Severus that Harry was in trouble, that Nott and Yaxley were drunk and vicious, looking for someone to prey on and their predilections for small, struggling boys was something of a game to them, something they planned to enjoy well after their time at Hogwarts and whilst serving under the Dark Lord.

Harry moved to stand and Severus aimed to help him with strong, sure arms, but Harry shoved him away.

"Don't touch me," Harry said quietly and, though he regretted the way it came out, he knew desperately that he couldn't be touched right now. He didn't even want to be looked at, couldn't stand the way Snape's eyes seared pity and shame into his cheeks, red with embarrassment, "I just--I want to--" His chest heaved with panic as he gripped the cold wall nearest him, his fingertips digging hard into the unforgiving stone, "I need to be alone," it took everything he had not to meet Snape's eyes as he turned away, "They need the hospital wing--I didn't--whatever I cast was..."

"I'll take care of it. Go to my chambers. Sleep. They won't be at Hogwarts when you wake up," and though Harry knew Severus meant well, meant only to protect him--the last place Harry wanted to be was in the dungeons. Was trapped in Snape's chambers where he would be poked and prodded and coddled--he'd stopped them. He'd saved himself--he was fine, he didn't need anyone looking after him!

It wasn't until he'd made it a floor away and a corridor turned that Harry doubled over with his arm wrapped around his waist. Nausea almost overcame him but instead a sob tore through his lips. How--why--was he just a magnet for this sort of shit? What was he doing so wrong that this happened to him? Was he asking for it? Harry panted as he struggled to catch his breath. His feet carried him of their own accord; Harry didn't even register that he was going somewhere until he found himself reaching to tickle the pear for the kitchens. He was on autopilot. There was an empty ache in his chest, nausea spurred on by hunger--he needed to fill the void.

He didn't understand why everyone was so hell-bent on taking something from him. His virginity. His...purpose in life, even. His love and affection. His blind heroism. The elves did not approach him and he knew it was due to the look on his face and the robotic way with which he pulled food from every corner of the room. He ate, barely registering the taste or texture of each morsel he put in his mouth. He ate manically, unable to sow down or quell the speed with which he chewed and swallowed. Once he nearly choked on a large piece of bread barely chewed. Somewhere throughout his obscene binge, he'd had a mind to get himself pumpkin juice.

When he was finished, the panic grew worse.

His jaw ached from chewing, the roof of his mouth felt swollen, his stomach bulged and bloated--Harry was experiencing an entirely different sort of nausea. He blindly ran from the kitchens, grateful for the proximity of the nearest toilets. He dropped to his knees and heaved, spewing the products of his anxiety attack in nasty, vile waves. When he was utterly empty yet again, Harry wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and rinsed his mouth with cool water. Hands braced on either side of the sink, Harry refused to look at himself. His eyes were probably ready and ready, his jowls swollen, his cheeks discolored from exertion--but shockingly, he felt calmer again. Stuffing himself full to bursting to fill the hole in his chest wasn't the solution, it had made it worse. But purging...fixing his mistake, the sort of high he felt now...Harry sank to the floor and dropped his head back against the tile wall. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, his eyes closed with relief and exhaustion.

He felt guilty, in part. He knew he'd slipped up and had a lapse in control, that he should have at least attempted to utilize his newfound coping skills. How could he have had such a...decent session and then--all of this? He was fucking sick of it, exhausted at being the victim time and time again when all he tried to do was distance himself from weakness at every chance he got.

Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there for or when he fell asleep but after however long it was, to be woken by the gentle-yet-careless prodding of a shoe in his side was jarring and reminiscent of his recent attack. he scrambled for his wand, only to realize that Malfoy was there in front of him and holding it out for him to take, "People have been looking for you. I saw you come in here ages ago--I didn't mention anything but figured I should see if you'd fallen in."

Draco's voice was stranger. Not as bitter and biting as he was used to, though not quite friendly either. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. He accepted his wand from the silver-haired boy and pushed himself shakily to his feet. They stood there, silent for a long time, "Snape said you went to him--I...thanks," Harry muttered, refusing to meet Malfoy's eyes while he admitted his defeat.

"I know what they're capable of. It was the only time I've been able to try and stop them. Even if it was you, no one deserves that," Malfoy said quietly, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Harry nodded in agreement, "Will you be punished if Voldemort finds out--I mean, if they tell him?"

Malfoy shook his head minutely at long last, "Professor Snape will take care of it," and Draco sounded assuredly confident in that.

"It's not too late, Malfoy--things could change for you, for your family. We, Dumbledore could protect you--" Harry blurted, wanting to repay the favor. Draco wasn't the benign evil, he was trying to survive, to save his family from Voldemort's wrath.

Malfoy scoffed and shook his head, "It is too late. I've dug my grave, Potter. I haven't got a choice. Save your false promises."

Harry opened his mouth to speak again but Malfoy was already gone without so much as another word. Harry steeled himself and left the bathroom. He wound his way down to Snape's chambers and let himself in. Snape looked up at his arrival, surprise apparent in his face as his pacing ceased.

"You--Gods, Harry!" Snape's voice was loud and largely unexpected. Harry flinched in response and stepped away from Snape as he came closer. Lines of concern were etched into his features and he gingerly reached to touch Harry's cheek but stopped himself just in time, "I didn't know where you were--" Harry looked down at his feet, trying to quell the guilt that thickened in his stomach. "They were expelled immediately and an investigation is pending--apparently this is not the first time they've attempted to assault another student."

Harry was grateful for Snape's logical approach. Ensuring him that the perpetrators were gone, removed from the school and unable to taunt or attack him again was foolproof. The weight in his chest lessened monumentally and the rigidity with which he had been holding himself dissipated. He took on more of a slouch and wrapped his arms around himself, "What's wrong with me, Sev?"

"What?"

"Is there a sign or something? A big fucking arrow telling every malicious person I come across to attack me--to try and rape me? What am I doing wrong?"

Snape was so taken aback by Harry's brutal honesty--he'd never heard Harry mention his trauma like this before. Not sober, anyway. "Nothing, Harry. Nothing at all. There's nothing wrong with you. The sick fascination of twisted men is not something you can control--and you were able to defend yourself."

"But he almost--I felt him! Hard and sweaty and pushing against--" Harry's chest heaved and he pressed a hand over his heart. He reminded himself to take slow, deep breaths. To count. He forced himself to list three things in the room that he could see.

Snape's hair. Wound up again in a loose, messy bun, pieces framing his angular face.

Snape's face. The rage and concern mixed so seamlessly together that Harry couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Snape's hands, clenching and unclenching, occasionally twisting together with--nerves? Maybe.

"If I ever see those fucking pigs again I'll kill them," Harry was jarred by the low severity of Severus's words. The malice and pure intent was unmistakable--Harry had never heard anger like this before. He didn't know that Snape could feel any emotion as strongly as this. He'd never heard the man curse before. It was entirely unexpected and threw Harry for such a loop he almost wanted to laugh.

"Did you just say--fucking?" Harry blurted, unable to stop himself, "That's the first time I've ever heard you curse. In 6 years."

Severus looked baffled. That--that was what Potter took notice of? His ability that use vulgarities? "I assure you, it is a rare occurrence--spared only for the utmost deserving scum--" In another rare flash of anger, Snape kicked a chair aggressively out of his way and sent if clear across the room, "Members of my own house! Did they think for a second that I would not have them expelled for such vile atrocities--"

"Severus, stop. It's okay, it's over--"

"It will never be okay! It's not over, they are going to pay for what they've done. Everyone who has ever hurt you is going to rue the day they did." Harry was utterly taken aback. He's never seen this ferocity in Snape before, never felt the extremes of his protection. It was almost tangible, thick and warm like a weighted blanket over his shoulders, "There isn't a single thing wrong with you, Harry Potter, I won't rest until you realize that. I won't rest until you feel safe entirely."

Harry smiled sadly. A beautiful sentiment but entirely impossible, "Can we let it be for the night?" He pleaded, refusing to address Snape's words. It was too painful to think that, truly, he could feel safe. His entire life had been a cat and mouse game. With Voldemort. With Vernon. And now? Nott and Yaxley? Two 7th year Slytherins he rarely thought of, save for on the field during a match? If they went after him, how could Snape expect to protect him from anyone and everyone? "I can't hash it out over and over, I want to forget it, Severus. He--" Harry inhaled deeply and shook his head, "Read something to me. Ginsberg. Your favorite passage," and Harry didn't give him a choice. He wound his way around desks and chairs and slipped into Snape's chambers, followed by Snape's silk laden bed. He kept to his side, forced his form to fit into the tiniest space at the corner-edge of the bed. It was meant to send a message, that Snape shouldn't attempt to touch him or get close.

Ever the observant one, Severus kept his hands to himself. He remained on his side of the bed and read from Ginsberg's 'Howl' passage after passage until Harry found himself lulled into a calm sleep.

While Harry slept, Severus plotted and planned. Nott and Yaxley wouldn't get away with this--nor would Vernon. But there was a special place in hell for a man like that. Severus would be sure to see him live it before anyone else. Though--Dumbledore had decided to keep the location of the Dursley's safe house from both him and Remus as a safety precaution. Not everyone at Grimmauld Place had deciphered the same message from Harry's words, nor had they seen Harry in the same state Severus had seen him in. Remus and Severus had been adamant. Charges should be pressed. Vernon and Petunia both deserved to be arrested.

Dumbledore, however, ever the thinker, had assured both of them that the last thing Harry needed was to testify and bare his secrets to both the muggle and wizarding world.

Severus thought it was a cop-out. He and Remus had argued with Albus for hours over it, but the Headmaster had been steadfast in his decision. And, admittedly, seeing the way Harry had handled himself tonight, he had to admit that the Headmaster had been right. Asking Harry to testify in trial against his aunt and uncle, against Nott and Yaxley--it would be undeniably more traumatizing. He still had work to do in therapy. He required more time to process the trauma that he had suffered throughout his entire life--it wasn't something that could be rushed, Charity had assured him without giving a sliver of detail as to Harry's progress.

 

 

He still checked Harry's wrists while he slept, on the nights that Harry slept in his chambers. He still asked Dobby if Harry had been for meals when (if) he skipped regular mealtimes. He watched him avidly, like a hawk during those regular mealtimes and tried desperately not to use an Unforgivable in order to get Harry to eat just a bit more.

In all honesty, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger had been quite adept in their encouragement. It was subtle. They "suggested" he try the mashed potatoes or the pork, the chicken or the vegetables. They never pushed too hard, but just enough that Harry submitted and put another bit of food on his plate. Lately, Harry had been adorning his meals quite lavishly. Not nearly as much as Ron nor even Hermione. But it was more than Severus had been expecting--that was progress. As was it progress as Harry sat on his hands and forced himself not to make his plate disappear. As was it progress that he asked both Ron and Hermione to walk him back to the Common Room or to Dumbledore's or Snape's, depending on his extracurricular lesson plans on that given day.

The Headmaster and Harry had been making adequate progress, it seemed. They had identified the remaining likely Horcruxes though had yet to work out the seventh. At least. Harry had yet to work out the seventh. It was something Severus had been perseverating on for ages. Something that he had voiced to Dumbledore once the man had confided in him about their "mission" the past month. Severus acted well and the other man had believed he didn't expect a thing.

"Is it possible--could the Dark Lord have unwittingly made Harry the seventh Hor-"

"It may be, Severus, that Harry will have to sacrifice himself in the end. I've theorized about this since the moment I knew they existed. If Harry is the seventh--someone else may be have to step forward and kill the Dark Lord. Albeit, this...has not entirely been worked out. It might be that the piece of Voldemort in Harry has to be killed, but the boy himself may live on-"

"All this time. A pig for slaughter. And you offer me false ideations in order to soothe--you've been conditioning him for this very moment-"

"Severus. Please. You, of all people know how I care for the boy. He has surpassed every one of both our expectations, he had broken every rule in place to keep him safe of his own volition-"

"And yet you reward him and his meddling friends house points-"

"Kindness and bravery will never go unnoticed in my presence. You, of all people, should be well aware of that."

Severus hissed, displeased at the Headmaster's words, "I've asked you--no one must know."

Albus sighed, a sympathetic smile played on his lips before he spoke, "Far be it from me to reveal the best of you-"

"I've had enough of your games, Albus, enough wit. I have been loyal and faithful to you always, you will not reveal me," Snape spat, an absolute lack of respect or comradery in his voice. He'd played this game for far too long. He couldn't bare anyone to become aware of his weakness. Lily Evans. His only friends. His first love--and now Harry. Her son--Severus forced himself to shake the thought. He could not, would not think of Harry that way in front of Dumbledore. Same as he couldn't in front of the Dark Lord.

"I speak only the truth. In due time the plan will become clearer. I will take Harry soon to retrieve the other Horcrux. I hope to observe how he reacts to it physically, it will prove our theory-"

"Your theory. Not mine."

"Will you, in the end, be able to accept the fact that Harry must die in order to destroy Voldemort? To eradicate the utmost evil from out world? At one point, Severus, you will be the only one left to tell Harry this, as you know, I'll be gone. If this is the truth, he must have someone he trusts tell him of it, otherwise, we'll all be helpless. Voldemort will take over--if Harry must die to save the rest of the world, you must tell him as such."

"No. Don't you dare ask this of me. There's another way," Severus snarled, whipping around from where he stood in the Headmaster's office, down at the grounds, "He won't die. He can't."

"Could it be, _after all this time_ \--you've come to care for Harry?" Dumbledore mused gently, softly in the way that disarmed Severus and allowed him to spill his secrets so easily.

"Yes, Albus. _After all this time_. I care for Harry. And I will-- _always_."

When Severus turned to study the Headmaster's expression, he was shocked to realize there was a light sheen of tears in the elder man's eyes. Dumbledore had his hands pressed together in front of his face, the tops of his fingers just barely touching his nose as he surveyed Severus before him, "Do you think he will forgive you after you-"

"No. I'll lose all respect from him as soon as it happens."

"It could be that he'll never know-"

"Don't, Albus. You ask too much of me already, don't ask me to lie to myself about the inevitable."

"It is for the Greater Good."

"As it always is."

 

 

 

Snape would never say it to him, but Harry was putting on weight, as was he putting on muscle. It suited him far more than the emaciated version of himself he'd been not long ago. Ron and the other Gryffindors on the quidditch team had been encouraging Harry to make it out onto the pitch. Harry was still quite thin, but he was leaner and not as sickly. He had a thin sinew of muscle lining his arms and legs. His abdomen was less rib-ridden. He wasn't quite healthy, but he was getting there. Each time they rutted against one another's thigh or sucked one another off--Severus could feel Harry becoming stronger. It was incredible. He'd gone from fragile to a force that would be reckoned with. Each meal that progressed, Severus saw some improvement--at least, the eating was better. Harry wasn't going to starve himself to death.

As the weather got warmer, however, Harry continued to wear long sleeves or left his robes on all weekend as if he was trying to cover himself up, which led Severus to believe that there was more there than met the eye. Severus himself had rolled the sleeves of his white button-up shirt to his elbows and loosened his tie because, even in the dungeons, it was warmer than usual. In a long sleeve t-shirt, Severus couldn't imagine that Harry was comfortable. This was further proven as the other pulled at the neck of his shirt and drew a hand across the moisture on his brow. Harry could have been casting glamours, he supposed. But Severus would have sensed them on a larger scale...if it were just for a few small wounds...he may have overlooked the magical signature in the throes of passion.

One night as the pair of them were bent over separate potentially useful spell books in Severus's office, he decided to ask: "Don't take this the wrong way, Harry," he started gently and gave Potter time to look up from the passage he was reading, "I know you've been making progress. And considering the attack you faced barely a month ago...but--" Severus hesitated, the answer was written on Harry's face, "Have you been cutting?"

The Gryffindor before him was rigid. Frozen with fear and...anger? Disbelief? Or perhaps misplaced anxiety, "Why would you even ask me that?"

Severus raised an eyebrow and closed the large tome in front of him, "Why do you think I've asked you that?"

Harry scowled and shut his own book with vehemence. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if to hide the evidence, "I hate when you do that."

"What?"

"Answer a question with a question."

"If you ask a question you know the answer to, I will not waste my time coming up with the answer," Severus sighed and gave his head a small shake, "I suppose I have my answer regardless," Harry opened his mouth to say something, but found the words wouldn't come. The denial, a lie to lead Snape's assumption awry. He couldn't find it in himself to protect his secret. He had been cutting--they were superficial, it was not nearly as often as it used to be, but Harry knew the explanation would do nothing to rid Severus of his concern and disappointment, "Dammit, Harry--" He stood swiftly and, even without his billowing robes, Severus had command of the entire room. Harry closed his eyes and took a calming breath, in order to prepare himself for the onslaught to come.

"Help me understand, Harry, please," Severus said at long last, catching Harry so off-guard he nearly fell from his chair. Severus had never taken this approach before. Harry almost wondered if he preferred a verbal lashing instead.

He shrugged in response, his mouth opened and closed wordlessly before he buried his face in his hands. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried to stop the sting of tears.

That was another thing, too. After years of locking himself so tight, keeping all the pain away--Harry found that seeing Dr. Burbage made him entirely too emotional. He was weepy. He found himself exploding with emotion even at the slightest incident. Charity had told him this was normal. That he needed to let it out before it imploded and caused him more damage.

"I don't know how to help you understand--even I don't, I know it's fucked up, I don't like it," Harry uncovered his face at long last to find Severus had moved closer to him again. He allowed the other man to lift his arms and roll back his sleeves, "When everything builds--all the dark shit or the anger, it's like I'm heavy and so wound up that I can't function. It's loud in my head, I can hardly see or breathe and the only thing that seems to provide that...release is a sharp bite of pain. And then to visibly see something leaving-"

"Blood. Your blood, Harry," Snape said quickly and with little bite, but he was truly listening to him, "But it must hurt-"

"That's the point, the pain distracts me from everything else, it gives me an outlet," Harry blurted as the pieces finally began to come together. Severus pursed his lips and gently traced light scarring with the pad of his thumb.

"And you say it is not as bad as it was?"

Harry nodded, heat rising in his cheeks as Severus studied the erratic pattern from old wounds less adequately healed. Slowly, gently, he extracted his arms from Snape's grip and pinned them firmly to his sides, "I'm sorry. It's--they're embarrassing," he muttered in earnest and shifted his sleeves back in place.

"How can I help you stop this? I could charm something, if you need me all you'd have to do is tap it yourself and mine will-"

"Like the coins we used for Dumbledore's Army!"

Severus froze and raised and eyebrow, "The--what?" Harry realized then that Snape wouldn't have had any idea about the use of charmed coins to plan meetings.

"It's a long story--"

"And it appears I have made it clear that I have an endless amount of time to spare where it concerns you and your infinitely long stories."

Harry laughed and nodded, "Can we lay down first?"

Severus held the door for Harry as he crossed the room to enter Snape's private chambers. He stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans and climbed between the emerald silk sheets before they wound together and Harry told his stories while Severus stroked tiny, tender circles against his skin.

He felt good about this. Severus wasn't angry with him, he was only truly trying to understand.


	40. In Which Harry is Learning to Cope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimers apply! Mild triggers in this chapter due to some flashbacks, nothing too graphic.
> 
> I hope you guys have been enjoying things so far! I've been so in love with all your comments, honestly, every time I get a new one I get inspired to write lmao! And that's not me bribing you for comments, it's the truth. Although, if it works...then yes, I am bribing you readers for comments. :)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> OH, and don't forget to check out my other story (shameless plugging, yes) "We Said Goodbye to Forever". It's a Marauder era story with the main character "Renata Lupin" (I gender-switched Remus). Let me know what you think!

They laid like that for hours, entirely uninterrupted. Severus was able to clarify and ask more specific, pointed questions about the experiences (and excessive rule-breaking) that Harry had gotten himself into over the years. Now, Snape had always known blanket details, the general gist of things. He never cared about them before, only about calling Harry every arrogant name he could come up with. He realized, while Harry explained Dumbledore's Army and the other events in that took place last year, that the Headmaster _often_ left out a plethora of information. Information that, at the time, might've been useful if not life-saving for Severus to know. His mind whirled at the mention of Grawp, the half-giant. Of the Centaurs and Ms. Granger's really very intelligent (though mildly reckless) plan to have that insufferable  _bitch_ Umbridge carted off by Centaurs. And the Thestrals, the bloody Thestrals--he was torn between being in awe of Potter's relentless heroism or being absolutely livid over it.

"It really is quite remarkable that you've lived this long," Severus blurted as Harry finished their intense encounters at the Ministry last year, "The Dark Lord had returned and was actively trying to kill you and you decided it would be best to get on a Thestral and fly through Europe--" Severus combed his fingers through Harry's hair, exasperation evident in his tone but a mild hint of bemusement as well.

Harry shrugged against Severus's toned frame and seemed fascinated running his finger tips ever so slightly back and forth between Snape's nipples, "I had help along the way," he said quietly and gave Snape a cheeky pinch, "It's more remarkable that more people around me haven't been killed--"

"None of that is your fault--"

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" Harry gave a half-hearted, one-shouldered shrug against Severus's chest.

"See? See what?" 

"If this pays off or not in the end," Harry's nonchalance was so disarming, almost alarming in a sense that Severus sat up a bit further, "If I'm able to find them all and kill him, I guess it won't have been for nothing. If he kills me, however--" Harry shrugged, "Then it's up to someone else and all the mistakes I made that got innocent people killed--"

"Enough with that, Potter," Severus urged, "Enough."

Harry stopped at that and decided he shouldn't and didn't want to push his luck with Severus. And he, truly, didn't want to subject himself to the depression that came with jumping on the guilt train. He didn't want to believe any of it, didn't want to admit that it was his fault...needed to stop telling himself that it was and always would be. "I'm actually enjoying this a little bit, what else do you want to know?" Harry said finally, a distraction if anything. And, truly, it was interesting to hear Severus's opinions on everything that had happened, all the things he'd been through, done, or tried to do anyway. Snape was still brutally honest, but his opinions were different now that he realized Harry was so much more than the "insufferable, arrogant brat" he'd always thought he was all these years.

Severus tensed as he thought, there was one thing pressing painfully on his mind, "The graveyard during the Triwizard tournament. Albus never told me what happened there. Neither did the Dark Lord," and it had been true. The Dark Lord hadn't wanted to divulge his failure, the fact that Harry had somehow managed to get away whilst surrounded by his "most loyal" Death Eaters. Especially considering the Dark Lord had been returned to his body and that he had regained his power. It was unimaginable how Harry, the slight boy resting against him, had escaped the Dark Lord for a fourth time. At some point, Severus had been forced to realize that this was not luck. This was sheer will, sheer power. Harry was not climbing on top of others or relying on the skill of those more successful to help him. He was talented. He had a power that others knew not. And he was determined, not willing to kill or sacrifice innocent people for means to an end.

He was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant getting rid of the Dark Lord.

The thought petrified Severus more than he wanted to let on.

"The cup was a portkey. Cedric and I agreed to take it together because we both...we helped each other out in the maze and it just felt fair, I guess. As soon as we hit the ground, Riddle told Wormtail to kill him, so he did," Harry's voice was very low. Very quiet. Severus almost had to strain to hear him, "Wormtail bound me to Riddle's father's headstone, used my blood in a cauldron to bring him back to his body. And then he wanted to play with me. He cast the Cruciatus curse on me after he summoned them. Each one of them fell to their knees before him, he removed every single one of their masks, thinking that I wouldn't live to name them. He wanted to prove he was stronger than I am. He used the Imperius curse and tried to force me to duel him. I managed to resist and hid behind a headstone. I knew it was a useless gesture, he would have gotten to me eventually, and I couldn't have run," Harry swallowed thickly and Severus tightened his arm around him to provide support, comfort, "So I decided I wasn't going to die like a coward. I decided that I would show him that I was completely unafraid. I stood and went to him. He cast the killing curse and I meant to disarm him...something happened with our wands, the core of our wands came from the same Phoenix. When they met--"

"Priori Incantatem," Snape breathed, his voice almost as quiet as Harry's, at that point.

"Precisely. And from that, the most recent people he'd murdered came briefly from his wand. Cedric. My parents--" Harry shuddered at the memory and closed his eyes, "Cedric asked me to bring his body back. My parents encouraged me, told me what to do as soon as the spell was broken," Harry sighed and shook his head. He hadn't even gone into this sort of loose detail with Ron or Hermione. No one, apart for himself, new what had happened that night. And now, Severus had the overview, and Harry was tentative about his reaction, "You know what happened after that, with Mad-Eye, er...Barty Jr., I guess. I had nightmares all year, I would wake screaming about it, about Cedric--" Harry bit down hard on his lip. He refused to say the rest. 

He would scream during his nightmares, Vernon would come barreling in and...he swallowed around the bile in his throat. 

Severus noticed almost immediately that Harry's breathing had picked up, he was squeamish. He began to pull away, though Severus wasn't sure where it was he would go--"Harry, it's alright. No more. We won't talk about it anymore," Severus wound his fingers in Harry's hair and held him close to his chest. Like a weighted security blanket, Harry felt safe and secure enough to focus on his panic. To note where he was. To breathe deeply until he was alright. Severus pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's forehead, lingered, and allowed his free hand to brush gently over Harry's lips, "You are safe with me, Harry," Severus assured him with his lips pressed against Harry's scalp. 

 _You are safe with me as long as you are with me, but after..._ after Harry hated him, after they were apart...Harry would be left to his own reckless devices. The same sheer bravery that had propelled him to  _face the Dark Lord_ at fourteen--he had to take a slow, long breath to calm himself.

"I know. I know," but was he truly safe anywhere, at all? "When the war is over, what will come of us?" _If we both make it out of this_ , Harry thought bitterly and forced himself to resist the painful urge to cringe, "Will we still have to keep this a secret?" It was something he'd been thinking about for a while and their relationship was among one of the only things Harry had not disclosed to Charity during their sessions. More than once, Harry suspected that she suspected that he was keeping something from her, but she never pried or pressed him about it. "I don't want to keep it a secret, if that matters to you at all." Severus sighed and the fingers he had been gently raking through Harry's hair stilled, much to Harry's dismay. He wondered briefly if Severus had the same reservations about the chances both of them made it through the war unscathed.

"I can't imagine your peers would take kindly to the idea of us being together. Surely not Lupin. Nor Molly and Arthur--"

"It's my life, they can't exactly stop me. I've essentially been a pawn for my entire life, how could anyone rob me of the chance to be happy?"

He relished in the growl of begrudging agreement that rolled throughout Snape's chest. He still had a hard time accepting that he made Harry happy. Too many times Severus had dropped an empty vial because he'd been distracted by thoughts of Harry--that he was stealing his innocence, his chance at having a normal happy life and relationship with another far more deserving than he. Harry often had to talk Severus out of his self-deprecating worries when it came to their relationship and the fact that Severus occasionally muttered about himself being a "Dirty Old Man". "I suppose when the time is right, if you do so choose to remain with me--despite being that you could have anyone you wanted, oh, don't roll your eyes, even straight men can't keep their eyes off of you--"

"How did you know I was rolling my eyes?"

"I didn't. Now I do," Severus teased and elicited a chuckle from Harry, much to his delight, "If you choose me and you are comfortable with letting the world know..." Harry wasn't sure why he was holding his breath, only that a part of him felt tense and anxious. What if Severus didn't want him anymore without the forbidden aspects of their relationship, what if he only enjoyed this because it was a secret-- "...then I will proudly stand at your side and weather whatever storm our relationship brews." 

Harry felt a warmth spreading in his chest and he tilted his chin upwards to encourage Snape to kiss him. Gentle went their lips, until Harry gave Severus a love bite and deepened the fervor with which he realized he needed Snape to consume him. He shifted his body in order to swing a leg over the man's hips and lifted himself until he was straddling Severus's waist. The other peppered kisses along Harry's jaw, his neck, and the gentle vibrations of his Adam's Apple.  Harry let out a pleasures moan and ground his hips forward. Their erections were separated only by the tangle of silk sheets and the smoothness of them did nothing to conceal the thick, weighty pleasure that was pressed against Harry's thigh. "I want you--" Severus growled before he claimed Harry's lips his own. A cool hand dropped sharply against Harry's perky arse and caused him to jerk his hips forward with a pleasures moan. "Gods, I want you--" Severus whined, eliciting a pleasured, throaty chuckle from Harry.

The tangle of sheets separating disappeared as soon as Harry allowed himself to focus briefly on the desperation throbbing equally as hard for the pair of them. Snape let out a moan as their hot heavy cocks met at last. Harry dropped his forehead against Snape's, his lips parted in a moan as the man fisted both their cocks in his hand and stroked simultaneously. "Fuck, Sev--" Harry cried sharply as he rutted himself into Snape's hand. Just before he was sure this would be his undoing, Snape withdrew his hand, laughing cruelly at Harry's needy cry of protest. Snape flipped them suddenly, Harry was slight enough that this was done with casual ease. Harry moved to push himself up on his arms, but Severus kept him in place with a strong, demanding hand.

"Ah-ah," Severus taunted, "I'm going to take my time pleasuring you," Harry was intrigued as Severus's lithe form slid over his arousal-intoxicated body. It wasn't until he was met with the very mildly uncomfortable sensation of his cheeks spreading that Harry squirmed, "It's alright, Harry. Just tell me if you want me to stop," Snape's voice was warm and breath against the dip of Harry's back, just above his arse. The sensation was foreign to him, but markedly welcome, especially as Severus slid a hand under him and stretched his cock backwards so it was between his legs and able to be stroked.

He felt hot breath next between his cheeks, against the puckered rosebud, winking scandalously at him with fierce arousal, "Severus, what--" He started, though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted him to stop. He moaned as Sev's nails raked sharply over his rump at the same time as a slick, wet and incredible sensation caressed his most delicate parts, "Oh, ah--" Harry writhed, his hips jerking backwards of their own accord, pressing his puckered hole against Snape's probing tongue. The vibration of laughter that escaped Severus pulled the same reaction from Harry yet again. He was a whining, jerking, shaking mess by the time Severus wrapped his hand around Harry's cock. Four strokes later and the breaching of Severus's tongue finally was Harry's undoing and he came so roughly he saw white-hot stars flooding his vision and found himself paralyzed with pleasure as Snape trailed kisses from his rump and up along his spine until he could nibble at the crook of Harry's neck, "Mmhm," Harry muttered, unable to form proper words as Severus rolled him on his side, "That was--"

"I know," Snape murmured, "Rest, enjoy it."

And, so, Harry did.

The pair of them drifted to sleep not long after that.

 

 

 

They woke early, before the sunrise saturated the grounds with liquid gold as it broke the horizon, not that either of them could see it where they were in the dungeons--Harry had a brilliant view where he was anyway. Severus was lying on his stomach, one leg free of emerald silk sheets, his arms wrapped around his pillow. The muscles in his back were sinewy and spoke of quiet, secret strength. Harry watched him for a while, leaned close to study the lines in his face that seemed to have erased themselves during this brief reprieve. It didn't last, however, for as soon as Harry was close, Snape's face seemed to contort and a cry of unseen pain spewed from his lips. 

Unintelligible words were being muttered, a thrash of his arm--Harry realized with a shock that Snape was having a nightmare.

" _No, not him--please--_ "

Harry was frozen, part of him was struck by how similar Snape's nightmare sounded in comparison to his own. How many times had he pleaded to unsung heroes to save Cedric? Anyone but him. As Severus began to cry out again, Harry's name on his lips, Harry reached gently to shake him by the shoulder. Whatever was going to come from his mouth, Harry didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear Snape begging for his life, or trying to save him, it felt like too real of a prospect. Like he was seeing the future...and that meant they would both be done for and there would be nothing he could do about it.

"Sev, _wake up_ , Sev, it's just a dream--"

Before Harry knew what was happening, suddenly he was lying on his back and Severus was in top of him with a hand at his throat and his wand drawn from beneath his pillow. The tip of it was red hot against Harry's cheek and the grip around his throat was disturbingly tight. Far too familiar. When he looked into Snape's eyes, he swore he saw Vernon, for the briefest of moments, the fingers around his throat felt tight, beefy...he strained to speak, to try and snap Severus out of it, but he couldn't get a sound out. Severus was not himself, Harry knew that. Severus was still half-asleep and still under whatever spell his nightmare had cast.

Harry scratched at Snape's hands and struggled underneath him for the briefest of moments before the cloudiness in Snape's eyes faded and he realized where he was, who he was choking, and that it truly had been a dream. He released Harry immediately and the boy scrambled out of bed and across the room from him, his chest heaving and his eyes burning with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I--should have warned you not to wake me from--"

"Yes," Harry agreed, his voice hoarse, "You should have."

And he knew it wasn't Snape's fault, that he would never hurt him, that he'd only been reacting as he was conditioned to, but Harry couldn't shake the flashbacks now, trembling and still certain he had Vernon's beefy fingers around his neck and Vernon's hard cock pressed against his thigh...he shook his head violently as if to expel the thought. He reached to massage his throat and looped an arm around his torso, suddenly aware that he was naked and entirely exposed.

"Would you like to go?"

Harry hesitated in his answer, but the tears in his eyes made it clear that he was uncomfortable and that he needed space. Severus inhaled deeply and, with a flick of his wand, Harry was suddenly clothed, "I just--yeah. I'll see you later, or something," he insisted quietly and turned for the door before Severus had a chance to even think about what he might say. That had been reckless, utterly reckless of him. He hadn't been having dreams like that recently, the dreams where he begged for Lily's life, for Draco's, for Narcissa and Lucius...but this one, this one had been horrible. It had been him begging for Harry's life. It had been him on his knees, pleading for Harry's life while he was being relentlessly tortured. And then when Harry had touched him, he had thought he was under attack.

He ran a hand over his face and dropped back against his bed with a frustrated groan,  _Fucking Potter_.

_Insufferable, beautiful, insatiable--_

He hoped beyond all hope that Harry would come back to him before nightfall.

 

 

 

Of course, Harry's first reaction had been to run and hide and hurt himself. A more coherent action had led him to Dr. Burbage's office where he'd knocked and waited patiently behind her doors, though all he wanted to do was burst through them and sob.

When she had finally let him in, Harry had paced for a good twenty minutes and warred with himself through its entirety.

"You are sure you're sworn to secrecy, no matter what I tell you?" Harry questioned at last, stopping in front of her on his latest turn.

"To secrecy," she agreed, "Unless you're in danger of hurting yourself or someone else."

"Okay," Harry started, "Okay." He nodded in order to strengthen his resolve, "I have to tell you something. I--fuck..." he dropped into a chair and put his face in his hands, "I'm in love with Snape. He...we...oh, Merlin," Harry looked up to gauge her reaction and, remarkably, there wasn't one.

"Oh, Harry, I knew that already," she told him gently with a smile, "The way you speak about him, the way he speaks about you...I've known for a long time now."

Harry stared back at her in shock, he hadn't thought anyone had noticed. Hadn't thought anyone in their right mind would have ever guessed, "You don't think it's wrong?"

"Well...ethically, as your Professor he shouldn't take advantage of his position, but I don't think that's what's happened here. And truthfully, once you are of age pursuing a relationship will be of no consequence to either of you. However...others may not look upon this as kindly. For a student and a Professor to engage in a relationship...it does break a certain code of conduct."

"We--he hasn't...we haven't had er...sex," Harry mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "But we've been spending so much time together and he makes me feel so safe until, well..." Harry trailed off and pursed his lips, refusing to continue.

"Until what, Harry?"

"This morning he was having a bad dream and I woke him and he...I know he was only reacting instinctively but...he put his hand around my throat and pulled his wand. He realized immediately but it...that's why I had to come straight here. It terrified me. He'd never hurt me, never--but all I can think of now is my Uncle with his hands around my throat. I never want to associate him with Vernon--"

Charity was quiet for a few moments while she thought of a response, "Post-traumatic stress does cause flashbacks, if you become triggered, it's your knee-jerk reaction to associate the trigger with a past event. Have you thought of speaking with him about this?" 

"It just happened, I don't even know what I would say. And I know he feels horrible about it--"

"What do you think would help in order to prevent something like this from happening between you both in the future?"

Harry mused quietly himself and let out a laugh as he spoke, "I guess I have to talk to him and find out, right?"

Charity grinned in return and nodded, "If you believe what you feel for Severus is real, I imagine it will take completely honest and open communication between the pair of you for it to work out in the future. But Harry, I must warn you, actively pursuing a relationship with Severus while you are still a student is forbidden by the School Board."

"I understand," and though Charity hadn't said it explicitly, he knew what would happen if their affair was discovered. As he left her office, he wondered if he'd made a horrible mistake in disclosing to her. He felt guilty and even wondered if he should tell Severus about it.

Almost immediately he decided against the idea, knowing the man would fly into a rage and probably call their relationship off altogether. He couldn't handle that, not again and certainly not while he was truly doing well. Harry did not immediately return to Snape so as to give them both a little breathing room. Instead, he headed to the Great Hall for breakfast and was unsurprised to find Hermione there with a mountain of books and her quill charmed to write furiously as she, very slowly, nibbled a piece of toast.

"Ron’s still sleeping then, I take it?" He asked her as he dropped into the seat across from her, startling her so much she nearly spilled her ink pot all over the table, "Sorry," he added with a wane smile.

She waved him off as if to say "neither here nor there" and finished her mouthful before speaking, "You know Ronald," she rolled her eyes and dropped her chin in her hand to survey him across the table, "Have you been with Professor Snape this early?" 

He shook his head and quelled his guilt by reminding himself that it was only a half-lie, "Charity. I needed an extra session," he admitted as he helped himself to a serving of eggs and rashers.

"Oh," she seemed to hesitate and he laughed and gestured with his hand for her to go on, "I just mean--is everything alright?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, it is. Sometimes I just need to get her perspective on something to understand how best to handle it."

"Was it about Professor Snape?" She asked, catching him off guard.

"What makes you think that?"

"Just curious, really, you both do spend quite a bit of time together. Last year you did everything possible to avoid him. It's just...a nice change is all, you do seem a bit happier with his support."

The sentiment warmed Harry immensely and he reached across the table to give her hand a squeeze, a gesture that caught her off guard yet again, only this time she reached to give his hand a squeeze as well, "I know it seems crazy, but we really have grown fond of one another."

"I can tell," and she was smiling so broadly, a knowing twinkle in her eyes that made Harry slightly uncomfortable and curious as to what else she thought about them. He couldn't ask, though, and instead changed the subject.

"How are your parents doing?"

"Really well, actually. Professor Dumbledore is setting them up with a safe house. Molly and Arthur will stop by to visit so they aren't lonely. Did you know Professor Snape was bringing them potions for the aftershock?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, "No, I had no idea--that's really kind of him, right?"

Hermione laughed, "Absolutely. This is Professor Snape we're talking about!" Harry laughed and nodded in agreement. This was interesting--definitely something he'd have to ask about when he saw him later.

"I'm really glad they're okay, Hermione. I don't know what I would've done--"

"You saved their lives, Harry. Don't think otherwise. We were all there that night. We saw what was happening. The only one who thought selflessly, the only one who was so ready to sacrifice themselves...was you. It's always you, isn't it? You're always the person who--"

"Stop, Hermione. Don't. I'm the reason they were--"

"No, Harry! Just listen to me!" Her protest was borderline hysteric and Harry found his mouth snapping shut of its own accord, despite the way he felt he wanted to protest deep in his bones, "You are quicker than anyone to spring into action. When someone else's life is on the line you are the first to throw yourself into harms way to save them. You did it first year, for Ginny in second year, for all of us in third, for Cedric in fourth, for Sirius in fifth--"

"Look where that got him--"

"Stop it, you stop it right now Harry Potter. As your best friend and the best in our year, you will bloody listen to me or it's the last thing I'll do!" Hermione's book had fallen over as she'd knocked them out of place in her haze of anger, and Harry was so caught off guard by it, he let her continue without another protest, "You are everyone's savior, you don't let it be otherwise, you never will. It's innate in your blood. Do you remember the prophecy? 'Born to those who thrice defy him'--your parents fought him just as hard as you always have, and you're still alive to do it. You're alive because you love, Harry. You're alive because you live on and you live just the way they did--trying to protect everyone in his path! You may be the Chosen One, but Ron and I will never leave you to do it alone. We won't ever leave your side, no matter what you say. You've sacrificed yourself for us, for the entire world a countless number of times. Don't you for a second think that we won't be there for you every step of the way."

Hermione was breathless after her impassioned speech and Harry could do nothing but stare at her with tears in his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that she meant every word she had said with every fiber of her being. No doubt in his mind that Ron felt the same way, as he was rushing down the aisle bed-tousled and fierce with agreement.

Before he could help himself, Harry stood on the same bench he had previously sat on, stepped on top of the Gryffindor breakfast table and threw his arms around both of them. He held them fiercely, cared nothing for the tears that were dripping on both of their shoulders, cared nothing for the eyes in the Great Hall that were watching them closely. In fact, he didn't even care for the fact that Severus had just entered the room as he hadn't even noticed and, instead, was focused entirely on his friends in that moment.

At long last, Ron broke the pleasant silence, "Hogsmeade today then, yeah?"

And Harry nodded his agreement as Hermione dried her own eyes. Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Luna all sat with them while they finished breakfast and agreed they'd meet in Hogsmeade later that Saturday.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione linked arms as they made the trek to the village. Hermione filled them in on gossip--apparently Cho Chang was dating some Slytherin. Lavender was kissing and flirting with every girl in the school who had red hair as Ron had finally rejected her. Harry tried his best to ignore the way Ron spoke about how glad he was to be free of her, how glad he was to focus on other "more important" relationships in his life--but after catching eyes with Hermione who was flushed impossibly red, he snorted himself into a fit of laughter that he was forced to refuse to tell Ron the source of (as Hermione was pinching him hard and fast under the arm).

They went to their typical stops, Honeydukes for Ron, the jokeshop for Harry, the bookstore for Hermione--and Harry asked if they would mind stopping at the apothecary so he could pick up a few things. Being that his gift for Severus had burnt in the Burrow, Harry was desperate to replace it, not to mention he had a few more rare ingredients to add, after having spent so much time with Severus--the man was quite vocal during his work, whinging about the poor quality of certain things he had delivered--Harry had decided to replace his personal stores with the utmost quality. 

Following that they kicked at snow mounds in the alleyway until Ron had had the decency to suggest what they all were thinking. 

"So...the Cloak and Dagger will be pretty empty, no?"

Hermione bit her lip and toyed with the coin in her pocket, no longer tied to every Dumbledore's Army member and simply those they trusted entirely.

Harry snorted, "Honestly, I was hoping one of you might suggest it."

And together, they walked to the pub at the furthest end of the Village. Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Luna met them not long after and squeezed into their booth, ordering a round of Firewhisky and ale for the entire lot of them. They drank and they laughed and they ate, and drank a lot more. And Harry found he was pleasantly numb, buzzed with more than liquor, but with happiness, too. He toyed with the idea of sending Snape a patronous and telling  him that he missed him, that they were fine, that he'd be over later--but it was too risky, he didn't know where Severus was or who he was with.

Harry sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, his cheeks flushed with whiskey and thoughts of Severus, "Are you thinking about Professor Snape?" Hermione asked him casually, a tipsy smile in her lips. Harry looked around at the others briefly, none of whom were paying attention, and he nodded.

"I feel like I'm always thinking about him."

"Do you have...Harry, do you have romantic feelings for him?" She was staring at him with such non-judgemental eyes that he couldn't help but cave and he buried his face in his hands.

"I think I'm in love with him."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Neville chimed in drunkenly, "In love with who?"

"You, you big sap!" Harry teased and threw an arm around his shoulders with a sloppy kiss pressed to his cheek, busting the lot of them up into laughter.

They traipsed arms linked back through Hogsmeade not long after that, drunkenly stumbling and giggling as they went. When they finally made it back to school, Harry realized they were well past the allotted time they were allowed to spend in Hogsmeade and stopped short as they opened the doors to the Entrance Hall to see Professor Snape, Professor McGonogall, and Headmaster Dumbledore. 

"Fuck," Harry muttered.

"I would say that's an appropriate use of the word, Potter," McGonogall said in a clipped voice, "I suppose the rest of you should sleep it off, we'll discuss punishment in the morning."

"And Harry, I believe you have a detention to serve with Professor Snape, if I recall," Dumbledore added just before they dispersed.

"You recall correctly, Headmaster," Snape  agreed and led Harry down through the dungeons. As soon as the classroom door was shut behind them, Harry tangled his hands in Snape's cloak and pulled him forward so he could press their lips together. He slid Snape's cloak from his shoulders and ignored the way Severus's hands seemed to be trying to still him, "Harry we--"

"Shut up, Snape, scold me tomorrow, punish me tonight," Harry taunted and bit Snape's lower lip fiercely, rough and hard enough to illicit a sharp intake and exhale of breath. "Show me how mad you are," Harry pleaded and guided one of Snape's hands to his head, urging him to pull and tug and scrape his fingers against his scalp--

Severus knew what was happening here, Harry was in one of those moods. The moods where he needed to be hurt to feel something, to feel normal again. Severus knew it had to do with what had happened that morning, that Harry wanted to prove everything was fine, that he still trusted him completely. And perhaps it was the alcohol too, giving him the confidence to ask for rough handling. He knew he shouldn't give into this, but Merlin his cock was hard and so was Harry's and he was upset with Harry for worrying him again...

Harry let out a moan as Snape pulled his hair sharply and angled his neck to the side where he placed a bruising kiss and followed the act with a pinch of his teeth. Before he could tell Severus to do it, the man had already bent him over his desk and made swift work of tugging off his jeans. "Fuck, I want you--" Harry groaned as Severus massaged his rump with one hand before he let loose with a smack, loud and hard enough to make Harry jump and cry out for more. He continued to spank him until Harry's cock was aching. He pressed himself up against Harry and reached around to fist his cock, stroking long and slow until Harry cried out and came all over his fingers.

Harry dropped to his knees almost immediately, required no time to recover  and Severus was already unbuckling his trousers and releasing his cock. It throbbed before Harry's lips and Severus thrust forward, breaching the pink pucker of his mouth. Severus waited for Harry to bob his head before he started thrusting to meet the back of Harry's throat, holding him in place with his fingers tangled in Harry's hair. Harry reached to fondle Snape's sac and reached further with his other hand to dig his nails against Snape's arse. Snape let out a low growl and gave his hair a tug, Harry welcomed the pressure and pressed forward, taking the entire length of Snape’s full cock. Severus continued to thrust and held his dick down Harry's throat a bit longer each time he propelled forward—until he was cumming and spilling into Harry's mouth, gripping his head with both hands while Harry's cheeks hollowed and he sucked him completely dry.

"Some punishment, Professor," Harry teased as he pushed himself to his feet and started towards Snape's private chambers.

"Brat," Severus called after him, flicking quick cleansing charms and straightening the desk as he followed. "You know," Severus started as Harry climbed lazily into bed, "You really shouldn't be drinking in Hogsmeade. Anything could happen. I expect this to be the final time."

Harry sighed defiantly though he begrudgingly conceded with a nod. It was true, after all. Hogsmeade was just outside the realm of Hogwarts’s protection—at any point the wrong person could have gotten word that he had been there. For someone so fundamentally constructed by building blocks of guilt, he was incredibly careless and too often reckless. Maybe that was they problem, after all? He set himself and those around him up to be caught in the mess he’d been born into.

With that unfortunate thought, he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Severus did not sleep at all. Instead, he listened to Harry’s quiet whimpers and muffled yells. 

The horror that awaited them would surely break him.


End file.
